


Cherik Tumblr Drabbles

by FuryRed



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Erik, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles You Slut, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Erik Has Feelings, Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryRed/pseuds/FuryRed
Summary: A place to collate my Cherik ficlets posted on cherikyassss.tumblr.com





	1. The Ring

                                                              

 

 When Charles awoke, the third thing he noticed was the ring on his finger.

Not the first thing- that was the ever-present buzz of nearby mentality, drawn in by his telepathy. Not the second thing- that was the feeling of wear on his skin; signs of love and passion pressed into him like marks of ownership.

No, the ring was the third thing. Charles opened his eyes blearily to regard it, lifting his head from the pillow to look down at the unexpected trinket.

There was a ring on his left hand- a thin circlet of metal perfectly formed around his finger like it belonged there. Only it didn’t. He didn’t own it. He hadn’t put it there. So who had?

“Do you like it?”

Charles turned his head to look to his side, finding Erik lying beside him- propped up on one elbow and watching Charles, as he always did.

He was the answer to each unspoken question- the mind Charles could feel with his telepathy, the mouth that had marked his skin, and apparently the reason for the ring now settled against his finger.

“Um… where did it come from?” Charles asked, watching the sunlight filtering through the window playing across Erik’s face.

“I made it… Out of that gaudy pocket watch Raven gave you for your birthday”.

Charles smiled. “She’ll make you pay for that, you know”. He adjusted himself in bed, rolling onto his side towards Erik and resting the suspect hand on the pillow next to Erik’s head.

“Erik…” Charles began cautiously. “It’s on my ring finger…”

“I know, Liebling. That’s because you’re going to marry me”.

Charles drew in a sharp intake of breath at the revelation. He watched Erik’s face- appearing to be impassive and quietly calm, even though Charles could tell that inwardly Erik was reeling- a nervous energy crackling through him that was barely betrayed by his outward expression. Erik always had been very good at keeping his emotions under wraps- hidden from everyone but Charles.

“You know, Erik- most people ask first…”

“Charles, I’ve been asking from the moment I met you. Haven’t you been listening?”

Erik reached up to grasp Charles’ hand, tracing his thumb against the ring on Charles’ finger before drawing Charles’ hand to his mouth and beginning to kiss Charles’ fingertips. Charles was mesmerised- held captive by Erik’s gaze as he had been ever since Erik had come into his life, and consumed by an affection that he could barely put into words.

“You’re smiling…” Erik said softly. “Does that mean it’s a ‘yes’?”

“I thought you weren’t asking…” Charles replied, and Erik rolled his eyes slightly before using his free hand to cup Charles’ face- thumb tracing Charles’ jawline earnestly.

“Just… humour me”.

Charles rolled over to press against Erik’s torso- resting one hand against Erik’s stomach as he smiled down at him.

“Yes, darling- of course I’ll marry you”.

Immediately Erik smiled in return- the expression sincere and impossibly wide, and a mirror of the way Charles was feeling.

“But wait”, Charles said, shaking his head. “Don’t you get a ring too?”

At that, Erik gestured with his hand and an identical ring travelled through the air towards them before opening and settling round Erik’s finger. Charles held his hand up to Erik’s, admiring the metal bands that solidified a devotion that had been there for years.

“Pocket watch?” Charles asked.

Erik shook his head. “Cufflinks. Raven really does have terrible taste in gifts”.

Charles laughed, before Erik pulled him in for a kiss.

 


	2. Sleeptalking

                                                            

 

It was just one word at first: “Save…”

Erik looked over at where Charles lay in the bed across from his- finding the telepath seemingly sound asleep, lying on his side with his pyjama top ruched up to his midsection. Charles appeared to be completely unconscious, but every so often he would mumble a word in his sleep: “Save…”

Indulging himself in one last glance at Charles’ sleeping form, Erik smiled before turning his attention back to the book laid open in his lap.

 

The next night the mumbling started up again. It was clearer this time- “Save” over and over again, then eventually: “Save him…”

Erik frowned, wondering who Charles could be referring to. They’d met numerous mutants over the course of their road trip, so any one of those individuals could be the person the professor was currently fixated on.

“I have to save him…” Charles murmured. Erik lowered his book to his lap as he waited for further information, but there was nothing else said that night.

 

By the third night the book was abandoned completely. Erik lay on his side facing Charles, head resting on one folded arm as he watched the telepath battle fitful dreams. With each night that passed Charles had grown more restless- face tensed and limbs jerking occasionally as he continued to fight demons in his sleep. It was just the same sentence now: “I have to save him”, repeated like a mantra that Charles had dedicated his life to.

Erik watched Charles for a few moments, until eventually he asked:

“Save who?”

He wasn’t expecting an answer, not really, but one came anyway.

“Erik…”

The word was full of feeling- warm and compassionate, like Charles was, and Erik couldn’t help but feel moved by everything implied by the assertion. It had been a long time since Erik had felt cared for by another person- since his mother had died, in fact.

Erik’s gaze passed over Charles’ face- kind and soft in the moonlight- before he turned away, rolling over in bed and closing his eyes, and trying to ignore the stirring in his heart.

 

The next night Erik didn’t even attempt to read, let alone sleep. He waited until Charles had fully drifted off before taking up position- perched on the edge of his bed and watching over Charles patiently.

In a short while it started up again.

“I have to save him…”

Erik edged forward on the mattress, resting his elbows on his thighs as he looked down at Charles’ tensed face.

“Save him from what?” Erik asked quietly.

“Himself…”

Erik withdrew, torn between finding Charles patronising even whilst unconscious and being touched by the professor’s concern. Further information was desired, but it wasn’t the time to seek it out- Charles was moving more erratically in his sleep now; expression pained as he gave out mumbled words and the occasional whimper.

It was hard for Erik to see Charles looking so distressed. Erik stood up from his bed- stepping over to where Charles lay and, after a moment of hesitation, reaching down to gently grasp his arm. The telepath tempered at Erik’s touch, and the murmurs abated as he returned to a sound sleep once more.

 

In the nights that followed the same pattern continued. Charles would say goodnight- all light and cheerful as he smiled at Erik- before he climbed into bed and succumbed to sleep. Within an hour though his apparent mood would change- a darkness descending that caused him to writhe in his unconscious state.

Erik would try to ignore it, but what little sleep he got was rapidly dwindling with every night spent in the same room as Charles. And so, more often than not he would rise from bed in time- crossing over to where Charles lay and resting a hand on his arm to soothe him. It always seemed to work, but it didn’t necessarily last long.

 

By the time a week had passed Erik was beginning to get irritable. He couldn’t manage more than an hour’s sleep without being woken by Charles’ sleeptalking, and part of him felt terribly guilty about the fact that he was the one causing Charles distress- though this was only expressed through surly silences, of course.

They couldn’t go on like this, that was for sure.

“I have to save him…” Charles mumbled.

Erik sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest where he sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the night sky. He couldn’t go to Charles though- not this time. Charles needed to learn to live without him; any co-dependency could be dangerous for them both.

“Erik…”

That next murmur caused Erik to turn around, finding Charles still fast asleep but fidgeting somewhat. He watched the telepath shifting uncomfortably on the mattress for a moment before standing up and striding over to him purposefully.

Charles stirred as Erik climbed into the bed next to him, bright blue eyes blinking back sleep as he watched Erik slide under the covers.

“Erik, what…?”

“You talk as much in your sleep as you do when you’re awake…” Erik grumbled, lying back against the pillows and wrapping his arms around Charles to pull him closer. Charles let out a small noise of surprise but didn’t say anything further, he simply allowed Erik to hold him- tense and uncertain at first until he began to accept this new reality.

Erik knew his heart was racing, and he knew that Charles could probably feel it considering he was snuggled into Erik’s chest. Possible excuses and explanations passed through Erik’s mind in a flash before he realised any words would be pointless- Charles already knew everything about him anyway, he had said as much.

Still, one lie couldn’t hurt.

“This is just to help you sleep”, Erik murmured.

There was a pause, and then: “Thank you…” spoken softly. Charles moved to rest his hand against Erik’s forearm, fingers tracing the numbers tattooed on Erik’s arm like he was trying to erase them and the damage they’d caused.

Erik fell asleep before Charles for the first time that night, and Charles didn’t wake him by talking in his sleep once.

 


	3. Something Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt:  
> [](http://imgur.com/cCodDlv)  
> 

 

    

 

 _‘Ridiculous’_ is the first word that comes to Erik’s mind. ‘ _Absurd, juvenile, pink, ample… fuck’._

 _‘No- definitely ridiculous’_ , Erik reminds himself as he turns away from the _spectacle_ to the side of him and takes another long drink from his glass. The bar in which Erik is sitting is entirely too humid in the midday sun, and the beer is cold and refreshing against his lips. Not that he’s thinking about lips… Definitely not lips that are practically fuchsia in colour, nor the affably entrancing face to which they belong.

Erik scowls a little, as is his customary demeanour, but the noise only appears to draw the attention of Erik’s distraction, and his huff is met with an amused smile and a single eyebrow raise from across the room.

_‘Ridiculous…’  
_

They’re in a _bar_ , for God’s sake. A grown-up, respectable environment. Okay, so Erik never expects any level of sophistication from the types of characters who normally frequent this particular establishment, but what he certainly doesn’t expect to see is a man who looks like he’s in his twenties, wearing a waistcoat, sucking on a fucking strawberry lollipop. Well, not that Erik knows it’s strawberry, he just knows that it’s red, and the lips to which it’s pressed are moist and flushed and… and maybe they taste like strawberries. Not that Erik is interested in finding out, of course…

Erik glowers some more and returns to his beverage, only looking over occasionally to see that the man is still watching him, and still tracing that damn lollipop around his mouth- sliding over plump lips in circular motions, round and round and _in_ and, oh God there’s tongue now too- sliding out to eagerly lick up the side of the… oh this just won’t do.

The smiling man still doesn’t move and doesn’t even look surprised as Erik stomps over to his table and glares down at him. Erik is met impassively by the bluest eyes he’s ever seen in his life, from a face that’s almost entirely level with Erik’s crotch- which is a completely distracting and completely uninteresting realisation for Erik. Not interesting at all…

“How old are you?” Erik snaps.

The lollipop is finally withdrawn, and the man’s smile widens as he gazes up at Erik.

“That’s a bit personal, isn’t it? Do you not even want to know my name first? It’s Charles, by the way…”

“I don’t care what your name is…”

“Really? That’s a little surprising to me, Erik, considering you’ve been staring at me the past few times I’ve been in here”.

“I… what– I haven’t… How do you know my name?” Erik asks eventually, deciding to focus on that rather than confirming Charles’ assumptions about the staring.

Charles smiles again. “I’m a telepath. I hope you don’t mind me taking a peek- I didn’t delve too deep, just confirmed your name and the fact that you weren’t about to murder me in a dark alley somewhere”.

Erik’s expression flickers, but it’s barely perceptible to the average person. Then again, Charles doesn’t appear to be the average person… A telepath. Erik can’t deny that he’s more than a little impressed by Charles’ revelation, and that it might not be the only thing Erik is feeling…

“Why would you think I might murder you?” Erik asks eventually in a low voice.

“Well, my friend, because as I said- I’ve been visiting this bar for two weeks now, and on every occasion I’ve felt your eyes on me. You’re not subtle, you know, even though you might try to be… In fact, you’re probably one of the most intense people I’ve ever met in my life, not that I’m complaining… Still, there’s something to be said for the art of conversation, so when I sensed you weren’t going to actually approach me I thought I might have to resort to some rather more unorthodox methods…”

At that, Charles raises the lollipop to his lips again- sliding it inside his mouth and raising his eyebrows suggestively at Erik. There’s a purposefulness in Charles’ actions; in the way he tilts his face down but his eyes up so they’re impossibly wide, in the way he draws the lollipop across his bottom lip ever so slowly- like he knows exactly what he’s doing,

“This is for me?” Erik asks eventually.

“Very perceptive, Erik. You seem to have a preoccupation with lips- my lips, specifically. I figured drawing attention to them might finally prompt you to come talk to me at last”.

“I suppose you think you’re pretty clever…”

“Darling, I’m a genius. But I don’t think you’re really that interested in my mind, am I right? Even without reading your thoughts I can sense that your attention is focused… elsewhere”.

Finally, Erik’s surly expression slips as the corners of his mouth draw up slightly in an amused smile.

“But you could”.

“Hmm?”

“You could read my thoughts”.

“Wha– Really?” Charles looks surprised. “Erik, I’m not used to anyone volunteering to let me in like that… Normally people consider my telepathy to be somewhat frightening”.

“More fool them”, Erik replies, sliding out the chair next to Charles and taking a seat at the table- leaning forward on the surface and waiting patiently.

“You’re sure?” Charles murmurs uncertainly, and Erik is more than a little pleased at having cracked Charles’ confident veneer.

“Yes, Charles”.

“Ah… Alright”. Charles turns in his chair to face Erik- resting his forearm on the table and meeting Erik’s steady gaze.

There’s a brief lull as Charles touches his fingers to his temples and then Erik feels it- like a warm breeze, or someone running fingers through his hair- a presence, soft and welcoming. Of course, the experience isn’t entirely wholesome… As soon as Charles connects Erik deems to fill in the blanks, by providing Charles with a very clear visual of exactly what he’s been thinking about doing to him.

Charles’ eyelids flutter, and eventually he comes back to himself in the room- dragging a finger across the lush bottom lip that had entranced Erik so.

“Is that what you were imagining?” Erik asks, smirking slightly.

“God yes… Do you want to–” Charles doesn’t even have to finish the sentence and Erik is standing, watching in eager anticipation as Charles smiles once more and stands as well.

Erik slides a hand to rest on the small of Charles’ back and begins to steer him from the room, before noticing the lollipop discarded on the table.

“Aren’t you going to finish that?” Erik asks.

Charles shakes his head. “No, I think my mouth is about to be entirely too busy with another kind of treat soon enough…”

 


	4. Wardrobe Malfunction

 

It’s easy to pinpoint the moment Erik first notices it.

During the weeks after Erik meets Charles he becomes accustomed to seeing Charles each day, and every time Charles is dressed like he’s just covered himself in glue and ran through the wardrobes of several elderly gentlemen.

Erik would never exactly consider himself _high-fashion_ in return, but he at least knows how to pair soft cashmere and supple leather in order to make himself look presentable. Charles, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care about the finer points of style, and so at first Erik barely notices what Charles is hiding underneath his loose slacks.

Then, one day at the CIA base, Erik bumps into Charles working out in the gym. It’s not at all where Erik expected to see Charles, and he certainly didn’t expect to find Charles wearing sweatpants so tight they are pretty much leggings.

Erik is transfixed- staring at Charles who is bending over in some sort of V-shape on the floor- his firm buttocks high up in the air and pointing in Erik’s general direction. A length of time passes- Erik isn’t sure how long because all he’s thinking about is the round shape of Charles’ ass and how it might feel to move closer and stand behind him and pull down those leggings and…

“Downward dog”.

Erik flinches where he stands, and across the room a set of weights crashes to the ground.

There’s a short pause, and then Charles dips his head to look in-between his legs at Erik. It’s fucking _obscene_ …

“Downward dog”, Charles says again. “That’s what this yoga pose is called. I assume that’s why you were staring at me- you were wondering what I was doing?”

“I don’t care what you’re doing…” Erik mutters unconvincingly, before stalking across the room to the line of treadmills and beginning to press random buttons. It takes him a while to get the damn treadmill going because he is still picturing Charles’ pert ass, but eventually he manages to compose himself enough to begin his workout.

There are no further words from either of them, which suits Erik just fine. However, at some point during the next half hour Charles starts stretching rather flexibly on the floor and Erik stumbles ungracefully on the treadmill before catching himself.

Mercifully, Charles doesn’t mention it.

 

Over the following few weeks Erik begins to regard Charles’ choice of attire as a source of irritation. He now knows that Charles is packing a spectacularly splendid ass, but instead of showing it off Charles covers it up in untailored trousers so unfashionable Erik begins to wonder if Charles is secretly ninety years old.

Of course, Erik never _says_ any of this to Charles, but it’s fair to say the intensity of his staring increases somewhat. By the time they are living at the mansion Erik is ready to rip Charles’ trousers off at any given moment, with his teeth if necessary, but he resists the urge. Well, to begin with…

It all comes to a head during one of their chess games. They’re alone in the study, the light of the fire illuminating the space around them, and Charles is wearing a particularly hideous pair of corduroy slacks. The trousers are an AFFRONT. Erik is practically grinding his teeth in frustration, as well as squeezing one of the chess pieces so hard in his hand it’s leaving little indents in his fingers. Not that Erik is thinking about that. Instead, he’s thinking about his hand in other places- leaving marks of its own on Charles’ round buttocks.

“It’s your move”.

Erik glances up to find Charles watching him curiously, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Is it?” Erik mutters bitterly in return, scowling and looking away.

“My friend, the move is always yours…” Charles replies, and as Erik turns back to look at Charles he realises that they’re not talking about chess anymore.

Sometime later Charles’ trousers are discarded across the chess table, though Erik had to stop from throwing them in the fire at Charles’ insistence. Although Erik is disappointed at not being able to destroy Charles’ wardrobe, he soon gets over the injustice of it all when he gets to see Charles’ ass in all its bouncy glory for the first time. It’s as smooth as Erik had expected, and the squeal Charles makes when Erik leaves his first bitemark on the left cheek is glorious.

When Erik is suitably satisfied he lies back against the wall, naked and breathing hard and feeling completely sated. Charles is lying across his lap, idly reading a book as Erik draws his hands over Charles’ firm buttocks, admiring the precious marks of ownership he’s left on soft skin.

“Why do you wear such old fashioned clothes?” Erik asks eventually, tracing one particularly fine handprint with his fingertips.

Charles turns to regard Erik. “You have a problem with my wardrobe?”

“Well, it’s a _little_ dated…”

Charles lets out a short laugh. “It won you over, didn’t it?” he replies. As means of a demonstration Charles begins to waggle his buttocks at Erik, and Erik soon decides on another round of spanking to shut him up.

 

A few days later Erik is in the bathroom, having just showered in preparation for the day ahead. Outside he can hear Charles moving about in his bedroom- a reality now commonplace after their first encounter. When Erik leaves the room he immediately stops and regards Charles in surprise, eyes trailing down Charles’ form and honing in on the tight jeans Charles is wearing.

“Um, you look different…” Erik says slowly.

“Do you like it?” Charles asks, turning around to give Erik a full view. Instantly Erik’s eyes are drawn to Charles’ ass- pert and prominent in the fitted jeans.

“Charles, are you sure you want to wear that today? We’re meeting with quite a few people this morning…”

“I know…” Charles replies, finishing his display and smiling at Erik. “That’s why I wanted to look my best for you. It’s only a casual meeting so I don’t need to dress especially smart, and I thought you might appreciate the cut of this particular outfit”.

Erik continues to regard Charles quietly, and gradually Charles’ smile slips.

“You don’t like it…” Charles says eventually, sounding disappointed.

“It’s not that”, Erik quickly responds, stepping forward and sliding his arms around Charles- his hands trailing down Charles’ back and coming to rest on his superlative ass. “I’ve just kind of become used to having you all to myself, having _this_ all to myself”, he finishes, giving Charles’ buttocks a firm squeeze.

Immediately Charles brightens- winding his arms around Erik’s neck in reciprocation and smiling up at him.

“Erik… are you jealous of other people potentially admiring my arse?”

“I’m not jealous…” Erik grumbles, but Charles is already laughing and leaning up to kiss him.

“Don’t worry, darling…” Charles murmurs against Erik’s lips. “I’ll keep wearing my ‘old man clothes’, as you call them, and you can just fantasise about what’s underneath until the next time you remove them”.

Erik slips into an uncontrolled grin as he gazes down at Charles. “Sounds perfect… just like your ass”.

 


	5. Body Talk

 

It’s remarkable all the things Erik learns about Charles’ body.

From outward appearances Charles is composed and reserved, and for the longest time Erik considers him as little more than a soft academic- a man more interested in research and theorems than anything physical. But Erik is wrong.

Charles’ hands are supple and delicate- caressing the pages of books like they are old friends, or gesturing emphatically when he is speaking to the students as he helps them to develop their powers.

Erik watches him, and remembers Charles’ hands moving in other ways- fingertips gently tracing the scar tissue on Erik’s body as Charles tells Erik he is appreciated, and wanted, and loved, before Erik rolls Charles onto his back and kisses him to quiet the noise.

Charles’ thighs are strong and sturdy- often hidden away under loose-fitting clothing, for only Erik to see. Although Charles occasionally ventures into the gym it isn’t a frequent occurrence, and Erik questions how someone so seemingly unathletic has become so well-built, until the day the students convince Charles to join them in a game of rugby, and Charles enthusiastically tackles Alex to the ground.

Erik watches him, and smiles, and remembers Charles’ thighs spread wide across his lap- tense but stable as he fucks himself on Erik’s cock. Erik trails Charles’ soft skin with his fingertips, and learns that Charles’ knees are particularly ticklish- another little piece of the puzzle that is Charles Xavier to be savoured and explored later.

Charles’ eyes are bold and breathtaking. Erik feels himself falling each time he looks into them- like he is stepping into a pool of unknown depths, unsure of whether he will drown. Sometimes Charles’ eyes sparkle when he’s sharing a particularly silly moment with Raven. Sometimes Charles’ eyes grow dark as he pleads with Erik to reconsider his plans for Shaw.

Erik watches him, and remembers Charles’ eyes impassioned and dilated as he lies under Erik- so intense and captivating that Erik can’t bear to look away. Each time he lies with Charles and sees the galaxy of colours in Charles’ eyes as he comes Erik considers falling into Charles’ orbit and heeding his words, but it is always fleeting, and forgotten.

Charles’ arms are surprisingly strong. Alex finds this out one day when, embittered by his previous humiliation during the rugby game, he challenges Charles to an arm wrestling contest. The students all gather round- Raven and Erik on Charles’ side, Sean and Hank on Alex’s- and they watch the match. At first Alex appears to be winning, but Charles is only teasing- Erik can tell- and it isn’t long before Alex’s hand is slammed to the table.

Erik watches him, and feels proud, and remembers Charles’ arms wrapped around his shoulders as Charles steals a kiss whilst the students are socialising elsewhere in the mansion. Their moments together are often brief and fleeting- their relationship the only secret in Erik’s life that he isn’t ashamed of. Erik wishes deeply that they didn’t have to hide, but society is so judgemental and so wrong, and Erik knows from his experiences at Auschwitz that there is a price to pay for that kind of forbidden love.

Charles’ mouth is kind and sweet, like Charles is. It’s clear to Erik that Charles chooses his words very carefully- like he is aware of the implications of errant speech, and he wants to ensure whatever he says has the correct effect. Even when Charles is upset his words are soft and considered, and Erik can’t help but admire the kind of fortitude of character Charles must have in order to maintain that level of composure.

Erik watches him, and remembers Charles’ mouth as he likes it best- placing tender kisses to Erik’s skin as he trails down Erik’s body; lips causing gooseflesh in their wake and making Erik tense in anticipation as Charles’ warm breath ghosts across his cock. Charles’ mouth is always given to Erik- in words and kisses and in any other way that Erik might desire- and Erik knows that he is extremely fortunate, and that whatever he can give to Charles in return will never be enough.

 

Although by this point Erik knows Charles’ body extremely well, it’s sometime later when the rest of the occupants of the mansion seem to catch onto the fact that Charles is not actually the inactive man he appears to be. He and Erik have just been out for a late evening run, having each decided to step out in running shorts and t-shirts due to the humidity of the evening. When they return they come across the students sitting together in front of the television, though they are immediately distracted by the sight of Charles not wearing his usual smart attire for once.

“Good God, Charles- put those legs away, I’m going blind”, Raven exclaims, dramatically covering her eyes and ducking behind Hank on the sofa.

Alex shakes his head. “I knew there had to be a reason you were able to beat me, professor- you’ve been working out with Erik, haven’t you?” he asks.

Erik smirks, picturing the various ‘work-outs’ of the past few weeks, and looking over to find Charles smiling too.

“You’re right”, Erik interjects. “As a matter of fact, it’s time for our next session. We’ll see you kids later”.

Erik turns and gestures at Charles to follow as he walks from the room. He only gets a short distance down the corridor before he almost buckles under the weight of Charles throwing himself on Erik’s back.

“Ugh, you’re heavy…” Erik groans, sliding his hands down to hold Charles’ thighs to support him.

“You love it”, Charles replies, pressing a kiss just behind Erik’s ear as he’s carried down the hallway.

Erik does.

 


	6. Yours

 

In many areas of his life, Erik is in charge.

It’s perhaps a by-product of being independent for so many years- murder is an isolating business, and Erik is used to only having himself to answer to. By the time Erik meets Charles he is essentially a one-man army, and he is accustomed to having his own way. His usual companions don’t tend to live long, and the dead don’t answer back, after all.

When Charles and Erik leave on the mutant road trip Erik insists he will be the one to drive, and Charles agrees. When they dine in various restaurants and cafes across the country Erik often orders for Charles as well as himself, and Charles accepts. When they discuss which hotel to stay at for the night Erik makes the decision himself, and Charles assents.

In the bedroom, the situation is very different.

It’s no surprise that when Charles and Erik share their first kiss, it is mid-argument. They’ve just returned from meeting a mutant who Erik considers wholly useless; a man afraid of his own shadow and seemingly unaware of the superiority of his own genes. There’s nothing Erik hates more than a mutant who cannot recognise their own power, and he tells Charles this as they bicker in the hotel room.

The only time Charles really counters Erik is when they debate mutant issues. Whilst Charles may be content to step back and let Erik take the lead in most aspects of their lives, he will never let Erik’s words go unchallenged, and part of Erik is forced to admit that he is thrilled when Charles answers back. Charles is gorgeous when he is defiant- eyes bold and blue, mouth drawn tight, fists clenching at his sides as he glares up at Erik.

It’s no surprise that Erik cannot resist the urge to kiss him.

Whatever words Charles is saying are cut off mid-sentence by the force of Erik pressing their mouths together. Charles is surprised, Erik can tell, but like in all other things Charles relents, and he opens his mouth and gives in to the kiss.

When they make it to the bed- now naked and grabbing at each other- Erik tries to roll Charles onto his back to take the lead but Charles shuts him down with a firm “No” and a gentle push against Erik’s shoulder. It’s the first time Charles has said no to Erik, and Erik is surprised to find he likes the way it sounds coming from Charles’ lips.

At Charles’ instruction Erik is directed to lay back against the mattress. He does this willingly, just as he readily lifts his hips as Charles slides a pillow underneath his waist- the resulting angle leaving Erik feeling even more naked and exposed than he was previously. Erik is safe with Charles though- he knows this. Charles is remarkably powerful, and his mutation in anyone else’s hands could be a very dangerous weapon- but Erik knows that Charles is incapable of hurting another person, and although this faith isn’t quite enough to make Erik trust another person after decades of suspicion, it’s a start.

After a brief kiss which feels like reward Charles leaves the bed, and Erik is quiet as Charles moves around the room- watching as Charles wanders over to his suitcase that is placed on the floor nearby and begins to search through it. It’s intoxicating to see Charles completely naked and unabashed for the first time, and the promise of the situation is making Erik’s heart race with anticipation; blood pumping hot through his body and amassing in his hard cock. When Erik can take the tension no more he reaches for it, but from across the room there is another firm “No”, and Erik’s hand drops to his side in compliance.

When Charles has located what he’s looking for he walks unhurriedly back to the bed, and Erik inwardly tenses at the sight of a small pot in Charles’ hand. But despite his nerves Erik makes no move to object, particularly when Charles draws close and climbs on top of Erik on the bed- straddling his waist and resting his hands against Erik’s chest. It’s ridiculous how good Charles looks- his eyes bright and open, his lips flushed and soft, his skin pale and adorned with a constellation of freckles, his cock hard and heavy between his legs. Erik wants it- wants Charles, more than he’s ever wanted anything else before; wants to touch, to feel, to taste- but as soon as he reaches out the “No” is swift, and Erik folds in its wake.

“You’re killing me…” Erik grumbles.

In response Charles smiles and leans forward- using delicate fingers to brush Erik’s hair back from his forehead.

“Patience, darling…” Charles murmurs, pressing his lips to Erik’s mouth. Erik melts into the majesty of Charles’ kiss, hands tentatively creeping up and resting chastely on Charles’ waist, caressing the fine bones of his hips as their mouths move together.

After a short duration Charles withdraws, continuing to smile softly down at Erik as he reaches for the pot of lubricant he placed on the mattress. Erik watches, transfixed, as Charles coats his fingers and reaches behind himself, and sucks in an unsteady breath as Charles’ fingers travel past Erik’s member and further down.

There’s no intrusion, at least at first. Charles watches Erik’s face carefully as he brushes his fingers against sensitive skin, tracing Erik’s entrance in a teasing circle that Erik finds pleasurable and maddening in equal measure. Somehow Charles seems to know the precise pace to set, and by the time he begins to encroach Erik is mad for wanting it, and he actively angles himself onto Charles’ fingers, causing Charles to rock unsteadily on top of him.

“Careful…” Charles murmurs, using his other hand to rub in soothing motions against Erik’s chest.

In response Erik lets out a gruff whine and pushes down further, gripping Charles’ waist as he gazes up at him. There’s a slight crease to Charles’ brow like a look of disapproval, but Charles doesn’t say anything and Erik is sure his mouth lifts briefly in the hint of a smile, and it’s hard for Erik not to start grinning in return.

Of course, in the next second Charles’ graceful fingers nudge against Erik’s prostate, and any controlled facial expressions are lost to a shaky moan and a shudder that Erik feels run through every part of him. Erik is holding Charles’ waist with an intensity that could bruise now, but in contrast Charles is calm and composed, and there is satisfaction in his eyes as he brushes the pads of his fingers against the tangle of nerves that make Erik buck underneath him.

It’s intense, almost too intense, and Erik closes his eyes and succumbs to the feeling, but evidently that isn’t what Charles wants.

“Erik, look at me…” Charles requests, rubbing a thumb against Erik’s chin.

Erik obeys, gives, falls, and Charles smiles and resumes his rhythm. It’s an effort to concentrate when everything feels just _so good_ , but Charles must know this because- the time Erik starts to feel himself losing control again- Charles removes his fingers, and Erik is left open in anticipation of what comes next.

The sight of Charles sitting astride him is still so wonderful, and Erik is pained with how much he aches to touch. He trails his fingers along Charles’ hip bones as Charles reaches once more for the lube, and Erik finds himself uttering a word long since resigned to memory in his vocabulary.

“Please…”

Charles pauses at the sound, and smiles, and nods, and Erik takes the pot from Charles’ hands and coats his fingers in lubricant before reaching for Charles’ cock. The breathy little gasp Charles makes when Erik touches him is _everything_ ; that and the way Charles looks at him- like he can’t quite believe Erik is real.

Their eyes are locked as Erik slides his palm along the length of Charles’ shaft, and Erik would be content to just stay like this- to get Charles off like this, to watch Charles shake and moan above him- but he can tell Charles has finer things in mind, and it’s no surprise when Charles mumbles “That’s enough” and pushes Erik’s hand away. Charles climbs off of Erik briskly and taps lightly on Erik’s side, and when he instructs Erik to turn over Erik heeds without hesitation.

There’s a length of time after that which is maddening. Erik lies flat on the mattress with his arms wrapped around the pillow as he feels Charles move behind him. Erik feels like he is burning up- blood and lust and desire causing a flush against his skin, contrasted by the coolness of the pillow underneath his face and the displacement of air he feels every time Charles moves on the bed. Erik wants to rush, but to savour, to take, but to wait, and the conflict within causes Erik to linger resignedly but also to huff in restlessness.

“Patience, darling…” Charles murmurs, placing a reassuring hand on the back of Erik’s neck.

Charles is close now- Erik can feel his skin tingle in anticipation at the proximity- and he grips the pillow tight as he feels the first push of Charles’ cock against his entrance. Though he wants it Erik feels himself tense in response- fearful at allowing himself to be so vulnerable with another person for the first time in years- but Charles is patient, and kind, and he simply continues to stroke the hair at the nape of Erik’s neck as he waits for Erik to relax. Erik can feel it then- Charles’ presence in his mind as well as his body; the sensation like comfort, like security- a blanket of softness that is soothing rather than suffocating. Erik visibly relaxes, and Charles mumbles words of encouragement as he pushes further in.

“Good, Erik, so good…” Charles murmurs, stroking Erik’s hair as he slides inside.

It’s a pleasure bordering on pain, and Erik knows he will feel this tomorrow, but he realises the idea is comforting- like he will have a mark of Charles upon him; a secret beneath the skin. He shudders as Charles pushes inside, feeling the stretch of Charles’ cock and the weight Charles’ body keeping him in place, and knows this is where he belongs.

Charles’ movements are languid at first. He fucks into Erik slowly, kisses the back of his neck softly, tells Erik he is good, and wanted, and appreciated. The feeling is intense and heady- not just to have Charles inside his body but to feel Charles inside his mind; not prying, just present and protecting.

It’s good but Erik wants more, and he pushes back against Charles, sending Charles’ cock deeper inside as Erik draws his knees under his body but keeps his face pressed down into the pillow. The angle is just about _perfect_ , and Erik groans deeply as Charles begins to pick up speed- gripping Erik’s waist tight as he fucks him. With each thrust the tip of Erik’s cock brushes against the mattress but it isn’t enough, and though Erik yeans to touch he finds he doesn’t want what he can take, he wants what Charles can give.

“Please, Charles…” Erik mumbles.

Charles’ rhythm slows as he trails a hand along Erik’s side and down his thigh.

“This…?” Charles whispers as he grips Erik’s cock, and Erik moans emphatically in response before he begins to match Charles’ rhythm as he rocks forward; fucking the warm clasp of Charles’ hand. 

With the sure grip on his member and the feeling of Charles pounding into him Erik teeters on the brink, and he shudders and groans under Charles as pleasure begins to pool in the pit of his stomach.

“Good, Erik… That’s it- don’t hold back, give it to me…” Charles gasps in encouragement, increasing his hold on Erik’s cock.

There’s a final few steadfast thrusts that make Erik’s knees weak and then he’s coming; frantic moans escaping his lips as Charles fucks him through it and pushes Erik down into the mattress as he shudders through his own orgasm.

Everything after that is dizzy and intense and hot and right, and Erik lays dazed against the mattress as he listens to Charles’ breathy gasps above him. He’s vaguely aware of the sure weight of Charles’ body sprawled over his back keeping him in place, but it’s a confinement Erik doesn’t want to escape from.

“We should fight more often…” Erik murmurs eventually.

There’s a bright laugh in response and Charles shifts on top of Erik- edging up to press a kiss to the back of Erik’s neck.

“Is this why you keep trying to provoke me, darling?” Charles asks, lips brushing against Erik’s skin.

Erik shrugs. “You’re cute when you’re angry”, he surmises.

“You’re cuter when you’re under me…” Charles replies, nipping at Erik’s earlobe.

Erik can’t quite bring himself to agree, but he turns his face to the side and smiles slightly, and Charles steals a kiss from his lips. Erik doesn’t mind- he decides in that moment that Charles can have whatever he wants.

 


	7. Beach Treat

 

This is, most certainly, not where Charles wants to be.

When he agreed to come with Hank on this trip it was supposed to be purely academic in nature- research, conferences, maybe the odd drink in a local bar if appropriate. Charles isn’t opposed to having fun, but being very modest and very English there are certain situations he just doesn’t expect to find himself in.

Like being on a nudist beach, for example.

The hot midday sun is bearing down as Charles cautiously wanders across the sand, keeping his gaze firmly downwards as he uses the items he is carrying to preserve his decency. Once he locates a suitable location to, well, _hide_ Charles lays his beach towel under a waiting umbrella and lies down upon it- resting his head against the rucksack placed behind him and propping an open book in his lap to strategically conceal his member.

It’s not that Charles is _shy_ , necessarily, rather that he doesn’t wish to attract undue attention. His reasons for being on the beach are of paramount importance; the small device that Hank created as a sort of ‘miniature Cerebo’ to detect nearby mutants had reacted unnaturally strongly earlier that day, suggesting to them both that there was a very powerful mutant in the immediate vicinity. Of course, the nature of the device means that pinpointing the exact location of said mutant is nigh-impossible, and Charles and Hank are forced to search an area of perhaps three square miles; a large proportion of which just happens to be a nudist beach.

Hank had point-blank refused to venture onto the beach, given that would mean him having to remove his shoes and expose his simian-like feet, so Charles was left facing this particular mission alone.

It’s nothing that he can’t handle though, Charles reminds himself as he surveys the scene. There are various people dotted about the beach each going about their own business, and Charles uses his telepathy to subtly flit across the minds in the area- skimming for information whilst ensuring his intrusion remains undetected. Things are going fine and Charles is beginning to relax in the slightly awkward situation, but then he gets completely distracted…

There’s a man emerging from the water, and Charles feels his mind before he sees him. Charles’ immediate reaction is one of awe and wonder- the man’s psyche is strong and disciplined, with multiple layers that Charles yearns to sort through. Charles has always favoured a strong mind, and has been known to actively seek out those with strong mental presences so he can engage them in thoughtful conversation. But then the lower half of the man rises from the water, and all intellectual thoughts are promptly shelved…

Charles’ mouth gapes slightly as he watches the man rise from the ocean- his body like a statue carved from fine marble; taut muscles and silky expanses of skin all glistening in the sunlight. Although the man’s torso is undeniably fine Charles’ eyes are focused decidedly lower, and the size queen within Charles practically shudders with glee at the sight of the man’s impressive cock.

It’s perhaps a full minute before Charles realises he is staring, and none too subtly, but by this point the man is already walking distinctly in Charles’ direction and Charles fumbles for excuses that might enable him to explain his lecherous behaviour. It doesn’t even occur to Charles to just use his telepathy to make the man forget his staring- for reasons he can’t explain Charles doesn’t want to corrupt this stranger’s mind, even though the consequences of such abstinence might prove rather embarrassing.

Charles settles for just averting his attention to the book in his lap- eyes frantically darting over the pages as he attempts to pretend he is completely engrossed in his studies and not at all daydreaming about mouthing up the side of the man’s large cock. It’s a poor show, and when Charles’ own member starts to predictably stir in interest he is forced to hastily position the open book back over his lap in an attempt to conceal his excitement.

“Good book?”

Charles inwardly curses as he realises the man is now standing to the side of him, and when he turns to look he is immediately greeted with an eyeful of cock, though part of him wishes it were a mouthful…

“Um, hi…” Charles starts, forcing his gaze upwards past an impossibly slim waist to meet the man’s eyes. The face that stares down at him is undeniably attractive, and is sporting a wide and rather menacing grin that makes Charles’ heart pound in anticipation.

“Yes…” Charles continues. “It’s, um, an interesting read…”

“I’m a little surprised to hear that, considering you’ve spent the past few minutes looking decidedly elsewhere. It’s almost like something else captured your attention…”

The blush that creeps over Charles’ face is immediate, and telling. He knows how clearly heat shows on his pale skin, and his mouth falls open wordlessly as he tries to think of something clever to say, but for once he is at a loss for words. Fortunately at that moment the man gives out a short laugh before he drops down to lie on his side next to Charles, meaning Charles is no longer forced to pretend he doesn’t see the sizeable obscenity in his periphery.

Of course, as it turns out this new situation is not much better. The man lies facing Charles with his head propped up on one arm, and as he settles into position his member shifts and drops against the sand, and Charles’ eyes follow the movement before he realises what he’s doing and corrects himself. By that point it’s too late, and when Charles looks back up the man’s grin is even wider than before and Charles’ cock is making a break for freedom beneath the folded book.

“It’s heavy, isn’t it…?”

“What?” Charles splutters.

“The book”, the man clarifies, nodding down to Charles’ lap. “When most people go the beach they bring something light to read, but I don’t think _‘On the Origin of Species’_ really fits into that category”.

“Ah, well, I’m a genetics professor…” Charles explains. “So it’s kind of required reading”.

“Really? That’s interesting. Do you specialise in a particular field?”

Charles takes a deep breath as he stares into the man’s intense green-grey-blue eyes before he replies: “Mutation”, and the look he receives in response confirms what Charles is already beginning to suspect.

The smile on the man’s face fades, but there is a certain interest in his eyes that makes Charles lean a bit closer in the prospect of hope.

“Erik Lehnsherr”, the man says, offering his hand.

Charles ensures one hand is firmly keeping his book in place before he reaches with the other to accept Erik’s handshake.

“Professor Charles Xavier”, Charles replies, before inwardly chastising himself for showing off. He can’t deny that he is eager to impress Erik though, not just because he fancies him, but because he’s still whirling from just the smallest impression of Erik’s mind that he gleaned and he wants desperately to explore further.

“Erik… I came to this beach today looking for someone, and I think that person is you”.

Erik’s grin is back, and as he leans a bit closer Charles can’t help but notice the way Erik’s eyes flit across his lips, or help the way he immediately licks them in response.

“My my, Charles- how very forward. Perhaps you’re not as demure as you first appear to be…”

“Ah, no- wait, I didn’t mean–” Charles starts, fumbling over the words and disliking the way Erik’s smile immediately begins to fade reactively. “What I mean is, I’m here on business- searching for, um, _gifted_ individuals- someone with immense power, in particular. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Erik’s face grows serious, and Charles is instantly crestfallen by the way Erik appears to visibly recoil.

“Oh, I see… You study mutations, right? That’s what you want from me?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“Not interested”, Erik replies gruffly, starting to sit up before Charles grasps him desperately on one arm.

It’s an effort for Charles to keep a hold on Erik whilst also trying to ensure the book doesn’t slip from his lap, particularly as he feels the taut and firm muscles of Erik’s bicep underneath his fingers and his arousal deepens in response. Erik stops moving but he doesn’t fully turn back around, he just quirks an eyebrow at Charles as if he is waiting for him to continue.

“My friend, I’m like you…” Charles offers, beginning to stroke his fingertips against Erik’s arm in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m… a telepath. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear, I’d just like to talk to you- to get to know you better. Please…”

Erik’s expression softens, and Charles feels some of the tension leave Erik’s body. He stares at Charles for a long moment as if he’s considering something, before he emits a low sigh and returns to his position lying next to Charles.

“And here I thought you were checking me out…” Erik says eventually, and Charles’ heart soars at the way Erik almost sounds disappointed.

“I was…” Charles replies, flashing Erik a flirty grin and revelling in the way Erik brightens in response.

“So, what now?” Erik asks. “Do you want to go somewhere more private and talk?”

The idea of that sounds extremely appealing to Charles, but he knows that any sudden movements would likely result in him embarrassing himself horribly and he can’t bear the thought of Erik being put off by his obvious need.

“Um, could we just… stay here for a few minutes… Or you could go, and I’ll finish this last chapter and come meet you”.

Erik’s expression is thoughtful and slightly confused, but when his eyes drop down to the book in Charles’ lap and Charles immediately grasps it tighter defensively he seems to understand.

“Charles…” Erik murmurs, reaching down.

Erik lifts the book gently as he peers underneath, and Charles immediately closes his eyes in embarrassment as Erik begins to chuckle softly. Charles is seconds away from using his telepathy to extract himself from the uncomfortable situation before the book is released and careful, callused fingers move to caress Charles’ chin, and he opens his eyes to find Erik grinning at him wickedly.

“I’ve always loved this book”, Erik smirks.

Charles lets out a relieved laugh in response as Erik’s hand begins to move- fingertips trailing down the side of Charles’ neck and across his chest and gliding across the sensitive skin of his stomach.

“I don’t suppose you bought a second copy…” Erik continues, and as Charles drops his gaze he can’t suppress the audible gasp that comes out as a result of seeing Erik’s slowly hardening cock.

When Charles shakes his head Erik smiles again, and there’s a mischievous look in his eyes that Charles doesn’t understand until Erik says: “Well I guess we’ll have to improvise then”, and with a flick of his fingers the umbrella above them drops down to conceal them from view.

Charles lets out a slight yelp in surprise, but then Erik’s lips are on his mouth and all sensible thought is lost, and when the book is pushed aside Charles has just enough practicality to use his telepathy to form a barrier around the both of them before Erik’s hands are wandering, and he is lost to the touch.

 


	8. The Art of Seduction

 

Flirting has always come naturally to Charles.

It’s inevitable really- Charles is friendly, and charming, and tactile, and his telepathy gives him somewhat of an unfair advantage when it comes to winning other people over. Charles tries not to be so lazy as to rely on his mutation all the time, but when he’s had a few drinks it’s easy to get complacent, and to take certain shortcuts.

Of course, when it comes to Erik, flirting is never that easy…

When Charles first sees Erik he is instantly captivated. It’s an impressive accomplishment, given that at the time Charles is busy talking to an attractive blonde with hetrochromic eyes. It’s the second time Charles has seen the girl in question so he’s looking forward to getting to know her better, and the yard of ale he’s imbued only serves to embolden Charles’ advances. But then he looks past her, sees a man in a black poloneck jumper and a leather jacket, and he is entranced.

It’s Erik’s mind that captures Charles’ attention first. Erik’s psyche is strong and disciplined, and speaks of a great depth and strength of character. Charles leans heavily on the bar, all attempts of impressing his companion completely forgotten as he stares past her at the mysterious man who draws Charles’ attention, watching as the stranger orders a drink and takes it with him to a seat at a table in the far corner of the room, like he doesn’t want to be disturbed.

Of course, that doesn’t mean Charles is going to respect that wish…

When Charles first approaches it’s very clear that Erik is projecting a careful aura of _‘fuck off and leave me alone’_ , but he doesn’t immediately rebuff Charles and Charles takes that as a sign to advance. Charles flops into the chair next to Erik, straddling it backwards and resting his folded arms on the back of the chair as he props his chin and flashes Erik a charming smile.

“Hi…” Charles starts, fixing Erik with his most flirty grin. “I’m Charles, well, _Professor_ Charles Xavier, after today. I study genetics, you see, like the genetics that make up your unique eyes… They’re remarkable, you know- a mixture of grey and green and blue… Eye colour is all down to genes, you know- a polygenic phenotypic character determined by two factors; the pigmentation of the eye’s iris and the frequency-dependence of the scattering of light by the turbid medium in the stroma of the iris. And your eyes are simply _stunning_ , if you don’t mind me saying…”

Ah. Normally at this point the subject of Charles’ affections should be smiling and softening- warmed by Charles words and impressed by his intellect, but Erik is curiously unmoved. He watches Charles with a completely stony expression on his face, and Charles feels his mouth become dry with nerves as a result of Erik’s indifference. A quick flick across Erik’s mind had reassured Charles of the fact that Erik was definitely interested in the company of men, so why on earth is he not responding favourably to Charles’ advances?

Charles clears his throat, preparing to launch into further explanations of genetics in an attempt to win Erik over, when he is swiftly interrupted.

“What do you want?” Erik asks quickly, and the words die in Charles’ mouth.

“Um, well… I just wanted to come speak to you- to get to know you a bit better. You looked a bit lonely over here on your own…”

“I’m not”.

Erik’s tone of voice is clipped and authoritative, and Charles is close to just giving up on this venture and walking away, but then he draws his tongue across his lips in a nervous gesture and sees Erik’s eyes track the movement, and knows his advances aren’t entirely unwelcome.

Charles smiles, begins to speak again, and although Erik continues to do little more than watch Charles with a completely unresponsive expression Charles can now sense the simmer of Erik’s interest, though it is carefully constrained. At least, it is to begin with…

Barely twenty minutes later and Charles is in the alley next to the pub, pushed up against the wall with Erik behind him. The brick wall is cool against his chest, and in contrast Erik’s body radiates heat where it is pressed against his back- Erik’s hands firm where they grip the rear of Charles’ biceps, Erik’s cock evidently hard through his layers of clothing where it's pressed against the curve of Charles’ arse. Charles wants desperately to turn around, to kiss Erik, to slide his hands under the soft cashmere of Erik’s jumper, to see if Erik’s body is as finely muscled as Charles thinks it is, but Erik holds him in place and Charles succumbs to the touch.

And besides, in the next second Erik leans forward and presses his mouth to the contour of Charles’ neck and reaches round to undo Charles’ belt, and as Charles’ trousers unzip seemingly of their own accord Charles just has a moment to think _‘My God, what an amazing mutation’_ before Erik’s warm hand slips in to find Charles’ cock, and all sentient thought is lost.

 

After that, Charles doesn’t see Erik for almost two weeks. It’s maddening how much that one encounter has rocked Charles, but for days afterwards he finds himself relieving the feeling of Erik’s hand expertly stroking his cock, Erik’s warm mouth making impressions on his skin, Erik’s soft hair brushing against the back of his neck. A simple handjob has left Charles a shivery aroused mess, especially as- at the time- he’d barely had a moment to recover before Erik had let go and withdrawn, leaving Charles unable to reciprocate and yearning to touch.

Charles visits that same pub several times over the next fortnight, hoping desperately to see Erik again, but he is left wanting. Frustrated and dejected, one night Charles hits the whiskey hard and throws himself into flirting with a pretty brunette, but just as he’s about to invite the girl home with him he sees Erik sitting alone at the same table as before, and his focus is stolen.

There’s hesitation for perhaps thirty seconds before Charles steels himself and walks over towards Erik, swaying unsteadily under the influence of the alcohol. The bar is busy that evening and there isn’t a spare chair in sight, so Charles is forced to come to a stop standing in front of Erik, staring down at him in what he hopes to be a formidable expression.

“Charles…” Erik says by way of greeting, looking up at him with that same maddeningly unyielding expression.

“Oh, so you do remember me?” Charles remarks, resenting the way he can already sense the warmth and comfort of Erik’s body, and the way he wants to step forward and run his hands through Erik’s neatly ordered hair.

“I remember”, Erik replies succinctly, and the corners of his mouth lift briefly in a subtle tell.

Part of Charles wants to walk away with dignity intact- to leave Erik wanting, like Charles himself is, and to return to the altogether more easy company of the girl he was chatting with earlier. But then Erik leans back in his chair, flicks his fingers once causing the zipper of Charles’ trousers to pull ever so slightly towards Erik, and Charles thinks both _‘Fuck it’_ and _‘Fuck me’_ at the same time.

It doesn’t happen quite like that though. Instead, some time later Charles is back in that same alley, leaning back against the wall and trying to stifle his moans at the heavenly feeling of his cock sliding into Erik’s mouth. Charles had at least _attempted_ some conversation prior to this, but- like always- Charles’ usual confident advances are ineffectual, and Erik is seemingly unimpressed by Charles’ flirting. Well, except for the fact that he is now on his knees.

“Erikkkkkkk…” Charles groans breathlessly.

It occurs to Charles that Erik has never once disclosed his name- it’s a fact that Charles has plucked from the periphery of Erik’s mind, and for whatever reason Erik is either unaware or unconcerned about the intrusion.

Charles flicks his gaze down and Erik looks up, and the visage is _sinful_. The gorgeous multi-coloured eyes that had entranced Charles on the night they met are focused on Charles’ face as Erik slides his mouth along the length of Charles’ cock, lingering at the sensitive head as Erik swipes his tongue around and practically causes Charles’ knees to buckle in response to the sensation.

“Fuck, Erik, I’m–”

Clearly Erik knows Charles is close, as he slides one hand up to gently press against Charles’ stomach to steady him before his mouth moves more vigorously, and Charles slides his hands into Erik’s hair to hold on as he comes.

 

Over the next few weeks Charles sees Erik on several more occasions. Charles is never quite sure when Erik is going to make an appearance, meaning that Charles is forced to spend numerous evenings in that pub just hoping to see him again.

Each time is the same. Charles is usually socialising as he does best, drinking as he does even better, and then Erik is there- quiet and composed in a corner of the room as he watches Charles. Charles always lingers, always, but the way he is drawn to Erik is magnetic, and he can’t resist the sway. Despite their intimacies Erik keeps Charles at a distance, never offers up any information, barely responds as Charles rambles on about mutations and genetics and Erik’s eyes and Erik’s mouth, and Charles is always on the cusp of wondering if Erik is even interested at all before something inevitably happens to change Charles’ mind.

They never kiss. Charles tries it, once or twice, but Erik is seemingly more interested in getting Charles off than his own enjoyment, and he simply pushes Charles against that same brick wall time after time before using his hand or mouth to chase Charles’ pleasure. It drives Charles mad that he’s not allowed to touch Erik in return. It’s not like Erik doesn’t want it- Charles can feel his arousal, both mentally and from where Erik presses against him, but for whatever reason Erik never permits Charles to reciprocate.

Eventually, maybe a month after they first met, Charles tires of the arrangement. He is in the same pub, but for once he isn’t drinking, meaning that this time when Erik enters the room Charles senses him instantly, and his legs don’t shake quite so much as he wanders over to where Erik is sitting.

Charles sits opposite Erik, and says nothing. No flirty comments. No attempts to impress Erik with scientific facts. Nothing.

Erik watches Charles, and it’s like a game to see who will speak first. A minute passes, maybe two, and then Erik _sighs_. It’s more expression that Erik usually allows to be revealed, and Charles is emboldened by the display.

“Charles, is something wrong?” Erik asks softly. “Why aren’t you talking to me?”

Charles remains still, arms folded, face completely stoic as he fights off a satisfied grin. It’s _working_ , Charles can tell. He only needs to hold off a little bit longer.

“Charles”, Erik says again, frowning slightly. “What are you doing?”

Nothing in response, and Charles can sense that Erik is getting frustrated.

“ _Verdammt_ , Charles- what is this? I don’t want to take part in one of your silly games, just talk to me- tell me what you’re thinking”.

The corner of Charles’ mouth briefly lifts, and he says: “Why would I do that, when you never tell me anything in return?”

There it is- Erik’s emotions made plain on his face for the first time. It’s probably no surprise that the first thing Charles sees is annoyance, then frustration, and finally a hint of contrition, and a great deal of longing, but each expression is like a gift to Charles; a greater level of intimacy than every time Erik has touched him.

Erik clears his throat, and then says quietly: “I didn’t think you needed that. You know things about me that I’ve never disclosed, so you clearly have some sort of psychic ability. Why should I need to tell you what I’m thinking when you can just take it from my mind?”

Charles pauses, and then responds: “Because I don’t want what I can take from you, I want what you’re willing to give me, Erik. You’re quite right in your estimations- I’m a telepath, but I try to respect people’s mental boundaries and, other than your name, there’s nothing I’ve taken from you without permission- I swear to you”.

It’s like Charles has unlocked some sort of secret door, for each display of emotion on Erik’s face is an indication of what he is feeling, and Charles finds himself suddenly more excited by the idea of seeing Erik’s smile than he is at the prospect of seeing Erik’s cock. There’s no smile though- Erik’s expression is thoughtful, slightly disbelieving, but overall… _hopeful_.

“I had no idea…” Erik murmurs. “You talk so much, I assumed that all you wanted was for me to listen”.

Charles dips his head, slightly embarrassed. “I was trying to impress you… Sometimes I ramble when I, um, like someone… And you’re very hard to read, Erik, especially as you seem impervious to my flirting”.

Erik laughs, and Charles watches- completely captivated by the sound and sight, even though he gets the distinct impression that Erik’s amusement is directed at him.

“That was you flirting?” Erik smirks. “All that genetic talk was you trying to seduce me?”

“It usually works…” Charles pouts, and Erik only laughs harder.

“Oh, Charles- you had me from the minute you smiled at me, you didn’t need to try so hard to impress me”.

Eventually Charles smiles reactively, unfolds his arms, and tries not to feel too abashed at the memory of him rambling at Erik numerous times over the past few weeks. It helps that in the next second Erik moves closer on his chair, leaning towards Charles and fixing him with an expression that could easily be described as fond.

“Humour me, just for a moment, Charles. Tell me what you want”.

Charles leans closer, focuses on the soft line of Erik’s mouth, and hopes he isn’t pushing the urgent thought into the minds of everyone around him as he whispers: “I’d like to kiss you”.

There’s a further smile from Erik, and Charles melts for a moment before he adds: “No alleys this time though. Come home with me?”

Erik watches Charles, considers him for a moment, before eventually he says: “Okay, on one condition. Please don’t try to flirt with me again”.

It’s a concession Charles is willing to make, and the wide grin he receives from Erik when he nods his consent is absolutely worth it.

 


	9. Liquid Courage

 

Erik has never been much of a drinker.

Most times, alcohol is a means to an end- a form of social lubricant, and a way for him to fit in and normalise when he is on a hunt. Bars are some of the most frequently visited establishments in the world, and apparently even Nazis like a drink or two. It’s easy for Erik to blend in when he is sat at a table with a drink in his hand, and most times Erik’s target doesn’t even know he’s a threat until they hit the floor.

When Erik joins up with Charles and the CIA he assumes his drinking days are done. After all, he is only remaining with Charles for as long as it takes to catch up with Shaw, so there is really no need to assimilate.

It’s curious then that, mere days after first meeting Charles, Erik finds himself sat across from Charles at a chess table with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

But it doesn’t mean anything. Probably.

A few weeks later Erik is drinking again- champagne this time- as he reclines on a bed next to Charles at a strip club. Erik has never tasted champagne before, favouring German beer above all else, and he finds the liquid has a peculiar effect on him. As the bubbles slide down Erik’s throat it isn’t long before he is smiling and leaning towards Charles and showing off for him, almost _flirting_ if he really thinks about it. It’s not too insane of a notion- Erik knows he finds Charles attractive- but any appreciation of Charles’ appearance is purely frivolous, and not to be pursued.

…Probably.

Not long after Erik is drinking once more, but he’s doing so alone. Charles is nearby- Erik can tell from the occasional cheers and loud hoots of laughter coming from across the bar- and Erik scowls a little more with each one and takes a longer drink from his glass.

Charles has always been very good at making friends, and tonight is no exception. Within minutes of arriving at the bar Charles had shunned Erik’s suggestion of a quiet drink in a cosy corner, and he is now surrounded by various people who engage him in conversation and listen to his stories and laugh at his jokes. If Erik were a unfair man he would say that the ease in which Charles ingratiates himself to others must be entirely down to the influence of his telepathy above all else, but Erik knows that Charles isn’t the manipulative type and he would never dream of such acts of corruption.

If Charles were capable of using his mutation as a means of exploitation then surely he would use it on Erik first- to make Erik relax and smile and join in with that evening’s fun activities, which appear to involve lots of drinking and some sort of card game. But, after a brief attempt at cajoling Erik into taking part, Charles assents, and leaves Erik to drink in peace. Well, more or less…

Later in the evening Charles wanders over- flopping down into the seat next to Erik and flashing him a wide grin. It’s hard for Erik not to smile in response, but he constrains his amusement into a barely-perceptible upturn at the corner of his mouth, before his gaze drops down to his beverage once more.

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself?” Erik asks dryly, sinking the last of his beer before placing his glass back on the table in front of him.

“Quite”, Charles replies, his grin bright and alluring. “You know, you should consider it sometime- enjoying yourself…”

Erik glowers in return. “We’re not supposed to be _enjoying ourselves_ , Charles. We’re supposed to be recruiting mutants, remember?”

“Yes, I remember, but our mission doesn’t mean that we can’t have a little fun from time to time…”

“Well, in that case I better get out of your way so you can continue with your _fun_ ”, Erik replies bitterly, standing abruptly and making a move to leave. But Charles is on his feet in an instant- reaching out to grasp Erik’s arm, and withdrawing tentatively when Erik looks down at Charles’ hand on him like it’s some new, rare event. It isn’t- Charles is very tactile and he touches Erik often- but even so, each occasion makes Erik’s heart race just a little bit faster.

“Um, sorry…” Charles mumbles, dropping his hand at his side. “Look, Erik, if you’re not having a good time then we don’t have to stay- let’s go back to the hotel”.

“You don’t need to come with me…” Erik starts, but Charles is already shaking his head and reaching for his coat which is draped over the back of Erik’s chair, and Erik can’t bring himself to object or to shrug out of Charles’ grasp on his arm.

That night, Erik lays in bed and watches Charles sleeping- just for a moment- and starts to contemplate a night that doesn’t end with himself spoiling Charles’ fun.

 

A few days later, Erik puts his plan into action. They are at a restaurant eating dinner, and across the table Charles’ face is illuminated by soft candlelight and the visage is so beautiful it makes Erik’s breath catch in his throat, just a little, and he makes a deal with himself that he will loosen up and have fun, just this once.

It doesn’t quite work out that way though. Whilst Charles is in the bathroom Erik asks the waiter for a drink to help him relax, and what he receives is something called absinthe. The spirit is harsh and strange-tasting, but it immediately makes Erik’s head feel fuzzy which he takes as a good sign.

But perhaps it was not a good idea to have a second serving of the green liquid, or to chase it up with a beer and a glass of wine.

Less than an hour later Erik is back at the hotel room with Charles, or at least he almost is. Sometime between the first step from where the car is parked to the second Erik stumbles, and then Charles is there slinging Erik’s arm over his shoulders and grasping Erik’s waist to support him as they walk. Erik leans heavily on Charles, and dips his face to press against Charles’ hair, and breathes him in, and he is so soft and so warm and so gorgeous that Erik feels something other than revenge powering his actions for the first time years.

With some effort Charles manages to get the door open, and then he is shuffling with Erik across the room until he dumps Erik down on the nearest available bed, and Erik lies prone and stares up at the ceiling and wishes Charles had followed him onto the mattress. Charles doesn’t join Erik though, instead he remains standing at the foot of the bed as he gingerly unties Erik’s laces and pulls his shoes off before turning his attention to Erik’s socks, but he only manages to remove one before Erik laughs and kicks Charles away because it _tickles_ , and Charles mumbles “Bloody do it yourself, then”, before he turns and wanders over towards the bathroom.

Whilst he is gone Erik rolls onto his side and stares at the light filtering from under the bathroom door and thinks of Charles and his sweet face and his kind words and his good heart, and knows that he wants him- more than Erik has ever wanted anything besides vengeance- and realises that if he is ever going to summon the courage to make a move it will be on this night.

When Charles comes back Erik is naked. Not startlingly so- Erik is in bed, his modesty protected by thin cotton sheets- but regardless Charles stops and stares at Erik and swallows uncomfortably, and his nervousness is so evident and so unexpected that Erik feels a warmth develop deep in his chest at the sight. It’s _adorable_ , quite frankly, but very surprising. Charles has always seemed supremely confident, and Erik has never seen him stunned into silence before.

Within a moment though Charles’ composure returns, and he smooths down his pyjamas and wanders over to the bed next to Erik’s, and gets about as far as just turning back the sheets on his bed before Erik grabs him.

Charles lets out a surprised yelp as Erik seizes him around the waist and pulls Charles into his lap- so that Charles’ legs are spread either side of Erik’s thighs and his back is supported by Erik’s folded knees. Charles immediately grabs for Erik in an effort to steady himself, but as his palms come into contact with Erik’s bare chest he gasps like he’s been scalded and whips his hands back, and places them on the more neutral territory of Erik’s forearms instead.

“Erik, what are you doing?” Charles asks heatedly. He doesn’t look annoyed, Erik is pleased to realise, but he’s definitely surprised, and his hands tremble where they touch Erik’s arms.

“I’ve wanted this…” Erik murmurs. “Wanted you, for so long, I just didn’t realise it until now…”

Part of Erik wonders if Charles had already realised, but if he didn’t before he definitely does now; now that he’s held captive in Erik’s arms, and Erik’s hard cock- barely constrained by the cotton sheets- is pressing up against Charles’ ass. There’s another evident tremor from Charles when he feels it, and his breathing turns shallow as Erik uses his grip on Charles’ waist to reposition him so that Charles is more snugly pressed against his crotch.

“Erik…” Charles whispers, closing his eyes. He looks so beautiful that Erik aches to kiss him, but as Erik leans in to try Charles opens his eyes again, and Erik is held captive by a bewitching bolt of blue.

“Erik, you’re smashed…”

“Huh? I’s not…” Erik replies. “I mean, I’m not. I’m fineeee. Let me kiss you…”

“No”, Charles responds firmly, pressing against Erik’s arms to stop him as Erik leans forward once more. There’s a fond look and a low sigh from Charles, and then his hands are in Erik’s hair- stroking through with careful fingers as Erik melts into the touch.

“Erik, don’t take this rebuttal as refusal, but I’m not going to let my first kiss with you be when you smell like a brewery…”

“Why not?” Erik asks, verging on pouting for perhaps the first time in his life.

“Because, my darling, you mean a great deal to me, and if we’re going to do this I’d like you to remember how it started”.

“I’ll remember…”

“You might, but I have no doubt that you’ll remember the pounding in your head a great deal more…”

“Well… What do you suggest we do now, then?” Erik asks, concentrating on edging his hand ever so slightly under the hem of Charles’ pyjama top and caressing the soft skin along his spine.

“Sleep”, Charles replies sweetly, stroking Erik’s hair his thumbs. “You need to drink plenty of water, rest, and then- if you like- we can have this discussion again when you’re sober”.

“But… _I want you_ …” Erik replies in a voice approaching a whine as his eyes trail over Charles’ full pink lips and his stunning blue eyes and the freckles spattered across his cheeks like dots of brown paint. There are freckles elsewhere on Charles’ skin, Erik notices as his eyes trail down to Charles’ chest, and Erik finds himself consumed by a need to undo each button on Charles’ pyjama top and press his tongue to the flesh that’s exposed. He doesn’t get to do it though- when he removes his arms from around Charles’ waist to reach for the clothing Charles uses the opportunity to wriggle from Erik’s grasp, and he has climbed off and dropped down to sit on his own bed before Erik can protest.

Erik feels cold without Charles’ weight in his lap, and weak, and still achingly aroused- particularly as his eyes glance down to Charles’ crotch and he sees the line of a half-formed erection distorting Charles’ pyjama bottoms. Charles notices Erik staring and quickly moves to pull the bedsheets over his lap, and then he is reaching across the bed to his bedside table and picking up a glass of water which he places on the table next to Erik.

“Please, Erik- drink this, sleep, and then we can talk in the morning”.

Erik stares at Charles for a moment longer before he assents- reaching sullenly for the water and downing it, before dumping the glass back on the table and turning over in bed to lie facing away from Charles, to hide his dejection and shame.

 

The next morning, they don’t talk. Indeed, they don’t talk for a few days after that. Charles tries of course- sometimes he even makes idle one-sided conversation for a while- but Erik only grunts in response and barely offers any words to Charles outside of what is strictly required. He can’t say what he’s thinking- how he’s embarrassed, how he thinks that Charles only humoured him last night to spare his feelings, how Charles must think Erik is pathetic and damaged beyond repair…

Erik keeps drinking. It numbs the ache for something sweet which he cannot have, and he ignores the way Charles looks at him in concern as he breezes through each glass.

But on the third night Erik doesn’t drink. He doesn’t really know why but he doesn’t feel like it, and instead he sits in a restaurant opposite Charles in silence, and focuses on his food rather than anything else. After dinner Erik excuses himself and mutters that he’s going for a walk, and though Charles looks like he wants to speak he doesn’t say anything.

An hour later Erik has come to terms with the fact that he cannot put distance between himself and his feelings no matter how far he travels, so he reluctantly turns and heads towards the hotel where he knows Charles will be waiting. Of course, he doesn’t quite predict _how_ Charles has decided to wait for him.

When Erik opens the door and steps inside Charles is in Erik’s bed, and he is naked. Erik comes to the realisation as his eyes roll languidly across Charles’ form- his bare chest visible before the sight of anything more exciting is hampered by the bedsheets pulled up around his waist. Erik’s heart thuds and his mouth dries at the sight, and immediately he feels arousal pool in the pit of his stomach as his cock begins to stir in interest.

“Hi…” Charles says in greeting, his usual smile looking slightly nervous for once. “I’m so glad you’re home”.

_“Home”_ , Erik repeats in his mind, not thinking of four walls and a roof over his head but thinking of Charles and the comfort and security he provides.

“I thought…” Erik starts, before the rest of the sentence dies on his tongue but the remainder resonates in his mind: _“I thought you weren’t interested, I thought you didn’t want me, I thought I wasn’t good enough for you…”_ It’s only when Charles’ expression turns sad and fond that Erik realises he has heard.

“Darling…” Charles replies. “I’ve always wanted you, I just didn’t want to take advantage”.

Erik laughs, slightly bitterly, because it’s funny really- the idea of kind, perfect Charles taking advantage of detached, hostile Erik. But Erik knows that Charles doesn’t see the two of them in those stark terms- that he sees Erik’s vulnerability hidden beneath the surface, and respects it, and wants to protect it.

Erik stops laughing but remains amused, and Charles’ expression is wary in response before he slips into a smile to match Erik’s that steadily increases as Erik crosses the room towards the bed.

Although Charles is frequently dazzled by an interesting person or an amazing mutation or even a particularly good book, Erik has never seen him as enthralled as in the moment when Erik stands before him and slowly removes his clothes. It’s like Charles doesn’t know what he wants to look at most, and his eyes dart between Erik’s intense eyes and his slim waist and his defined biceps and his broad shoulders and his hard cock, and Charles’ face slowly heats as he watches. Charles’ excitement is palpable and enticing, and Erik finds himself curiously composed in the appraisal of Charles’ gaze, and eager to see Charles’ form in return- or preferably to feel it for himself.

When Erik is bared he steps over to the bed and slips beneath the sheets, and then he is there- next to Charles, feeling the heat from Charles’ naked body as he remains within touching distance of the object of his desire. It’s like both of them are hesitant to make the first move, and they remain sitting side by side looking at each other- breath heightened in anticipation and heartrates steadily rising at the first gentle touch of their hands under the bedcovers.

Charles smiles at the contact, twines his fingers with Erik’s and says “I bet you wish you’d had a drink before this”, and Erik laughs briefly in response before he leans closer and presses his lips to Charles’ mouth in a sincere kiss.

That night, Erik quickly realises that the heady buzz of alcohol is nothing compared to the sensation of having Charles’ lips upon him, and he vows never to drink again if this is the reward.

 


	10. Body Language

 

There’s something about the sound of Erik’s voice.

When Erik speaks his words are measured and careful- never rushed, never drawn-out. Charles can tell that Erik is always thinking, always calculating, but evidently the organised thoughts in his mind so rarely breach his lips, and Charles often finds himself yearning for the soft murmur of Erik’s voice; each syllable more captivating and more compelling than anything Charles has ever heard before.

It’s music to Charles’ ears. A low, lightly-accented tone that causes Charles to lean closer as he hangs on every word- heartrate increasing and, oh God, arousal deepening as each sentence slips off Erik’s skilled tongue. There are seemingly so many languages at Erik’s disposal, but Charles’ favourite is undoubtedly German- gruff sounding conjugations which send a thrill down Charles’ spine as Erik mutters under his breath to himself.

It’s frustrating really- Charles doesn’t understand what Erik is saying, and although he could use his telepathy to translate the words, ever since Erik’s brusque instruction to stay out of his mind Charles has refrained, making Erik more of a mystery than anyone Charles has ever met. Charles yearns to understand Erik’s disciplined dialogue, but he’s been trying so hard to exercise patience when it comes to this man who makes Charles’ knees feel weak and his cock throb. And so, he waits.

Charles’ intrigue reaches its peak during the time in which they are training at the mansion. He is sat with Erik on either side of a chessboard, hastily set up in Charles’ room after Raven and the other children had commandeered the study in favour of some game or another. Erik had raised an eyebrow when Charles had suggested they continue their game in his room but hadn’t deemed to comment, leaving Charles wondering what he was thinking, as always.

During the game Charles sits and fidgets, tugging at the collar of his cardigan with absent fingers as he waits for Erik to make his move. The garment was a present from Raven and though it is undoubtedly comfortable Charles can’t help but wonder if it makes him look rather old fashioned, particularly when he compares himself to Erik who always favours supple leather and soft cashmere, and dresses like he is performing some sort of unknowing seduction.

Charles watches Erik move his chess piece, and sits, and pulls at his sleeves, and huffs, and finally Erik asks: “What is it?” and Charles glances up to find Erik looking at him, like he always does.

“Sorry, it’s just… Does this cardigan make me look like an old man?”

Erik continues to gaze at Charles for a long moment, just the barest hint of surprise and perhaps amusement showing in the upturned corner of his mouth. Charles can understand why Erik is bemused by the question- he’s never been asked for his opinion on Charles’ appearance before, though Charles has often wondered what Erik thinks of him- and it’s clear he needs a moment to formulate a response.

When he does, it only makes Charles more confused.

“Du siehst so schön aus, Liebling”.

Charles’ mouth parts and his breath catches, for though he doesn’t understand what Erik is saying Charles can’t help but pick up on the warm rush of sentiment that accompanies the words, and it makes Charles’ face flush and his heart thud emphatically in his chest.

“I never know what you’re saying to me”, Charles replies, his voice approaching a whine that betrays his frustration.

“I was just saying that I like your cardigan…”

“Really? Well, what’s the German for cardigan?”

There’s a pause, and then Erik replies: “Strickjacke”.

It’s hard for Charles not to look triumphant in that moment, but he constrains his amusement into a slight smirk as he says: “That’s funny, because I don’t think I heard you say that word…”

Finally Erik’s gaze falters, and his eyes drop down to the chessboard as he shifts in his chair, looking very much like someone who has been decidedly caught out. Charles could push the point- he knows he could- but though he _wants_ Erik he needs Erik to come to him, and so he simply leans closer in his chair and requests: “Teach me some more German words”.

Erik’s gaze flicks up and though he looks surprised he’s receptive, and Charles only has to wait for a second before Erik edges closer and reaches for Charles’ wrist- holding it in his hand as he runs his thumb over Charles’ watch and murmurs: “Armbanduhr”.

Charles’ heart is racing now and he wonders if Erik can feel it where his fingers press over Charles’ pulse point, but if Erik notices he doesn’t say anything, and his fingers trail up Charles’ arm- all the way up until Erik grips the collar of Charles’ shirt and says: “Hemd”.

Erik’s fingers are as delicate as the gentle flutter of a bird’s wing as they trace along the skin of Charles’ neck and higher up, cupping Charles’ jawline decisively as a single thumb comes to brush against Charles’ plump lower lip and Erik leans closer and some of the chess pieces fall over on the table and neither of them notice as Erik whispers: “Mund…”

This is closer than Charles has ever been to Erik, and it’s completely intoxicating. From this distance Charles can see how Erik’s eyes are like a stormy sea- a mixture of blue and green and grey, how his jawline is defined and dusted with a very fine layer of stubble, how his mouth is ever-so-slightly parted, like it is open in invitation…

“What’s the German for ‘kiss me’?” Charles asks in a breathless whisper.

There’s a rare smile from Erik- bright and genuine and completely captivating- and then he murmurs: “Küss mich”, and Charles leans in to obey without question.

The first tentative brush of their lips makes Charles feel like he would fall if he wasn’t sitting down. Charles leans into it, gives into it readily- hands sliding to grasp the front of Erik’s jumper and holding on tight as their mouths move together and Erik’s tongue flicks across Charles’ lips and slides past to brush against Charles’ tongue in turn and Charles _groans_ into Erik’s mouth; a release of sound that would be entirely embarrassing were Erik not making similar noises in return.

The chess game is lost, discarded, forgotten as Charles edges closer still on his seat- supported by Erik’s arms around him now keeping him safe, and part of Charles wonders why it has taken so much time for them to find their way here when he feels like it was where they were meant to be all along.

When they part, breathless and desperate, Charles leans back in his chair marginally- still held in place by Erik’s hands on his neck as Erik rests his forehead against Charles’ temple and brushes the tip of his nose against Charles’ own and murmurs: “Nase”, before his lips settle once more over Charles’ mouth in a last brief kiss.

“Thank you…” Charles replies eventually, eyes closed as he absorbs the closeness and warmth of Erik’s body and the evident hum of his mind- tempting to touch but out of reach, for now. “That was… very educational”, Charles surmises.

Erik laughs, his breath hot on Charles’ face, and he presses a further kiss to Charles’ lips before he says: “If you’d like to remove your clothes and lay down on the bed I’ll name some more body parts for you”.

Charles’ eyes open, startled, as Erik withdraws and watches Charles with a slight smirk to his lips and Charles almost laughs- almost- as if Erik were making a joke, but Erik never jokes, Charles’ realises, and though there is levity in Erik’s expression he clearly means what he says.

There’s a slight unprecedented nervousness coming from Erik as he sits back in his chair, fingers clasped defensively in his lap as he watches Charles, and waits, and he looks so vulnerable for a moment that it makes Charles feel a great swell of emotion in his chest. Part of Charles wants to leap across to Erik and crawl into his lap and kiss him some more, but it isn’t what Erik asked for and Charles is trying so hard to be what Erik needs, and so he stands up and steps over to the bed and tries to stop his hands from trembling as he feels Erik’s eyes on him, always watching, always patient.

It feels so intimate- like Charles is performing some sort of erotic striptease when all he’s really doing is slowly unbuttoning his cardigan with his back to Erik- fingers fumbling over plastic buttons until the garment is removed and he can start on his shirt. Charles kicks off his shoes whilst he shrugs out of his shirt, and then he’s sure he feels his belt buckle strain under the influence of Erik’s power as he slides it open and lets his trousers fall to the ground, grateful for the fact that his back is to Erik so Erik can’t see how Charles is already hard in spite of the fact that Erik hasn’t really touched him yet.

When Charles’ trousers have been kicked to the side he reaches down to pull off his socks, feels his face heat as a wave of enjoyment and arousal from Erik’s mind washes over him, and tries not to moan out loud as he pushes his boxer shorts down to the ground and there is another surge of lustful anticipation. It’s only a couple of steps over to the bed which Charles makes on shaky legs, until he clambers onto the mattress on his hands and knees and lies face down, and waits.

For a little while nothing happens as Charles lies there with his arms folded in front of him and his head pressed into them, and it’s so tempting for Charles to use his telepathy to take a peek into Erik’s mind to see what he’s doing, but Charles has been waiting for Erik for so long now so he’s sure he can wait a little bit longer. Eventually there is a soft sound- almost a sigh- and the noise of Erik standing up and stepping closer and, oh God, Charles is sure he can hear clothes being removed, and he bites his forearm to stop himself from groaning at the thought of seeing Erik naked for the first time.

Charles releases his giddy excitement into a quiet whimper as he feels the mattress dip beneath him as Erik climbs onto the bed, and he waits and wonders what Erik might do next. He doesn’t climb over Charles- if Charles had to guess he would say that Erik is merely resting one knee on the bed- but soon all speculation about what Erik might be doing is set aside as Erik quickly grasps the big toe of Charles’ left foot between his thumb and forefinger and says: “Zehe”.

It’s such a playful gesture and Charles almost wants to giggle, but then he feels Erik lean over and press his mouth to the curve of Charles’ foot as he murmurs: “Fuß” against his skin, and Charles really does laugh because Erik’s breath is warm and it _tickles_ , and Charles is still chuckling happily to himself as Erik’s lips trail over Charles’ ankle and he adds: “Knöchel”.

Erik’s mouth moves away after that, leaving Charles breathless in its wake until warm lips reappear at the back of Charles’ knee along with the word: “Knie”.

“Knee?” Charles asks uncertainly, lifting his head from his folded arms and tilting it slightly in Erik’s direction, but not looking, though he’d like to.

“Knie”, Erik repeats, and Charles feels it then- Erik pressing the letters into Charles’ mind so he can understand, and the feeling of Erik’s mind opening after so many months of evasion is so wonderful Charles has to hide his face in his arms once more so that Erik doesn’t see how completely wrecked he probably looks.

Charles keeps his head pressed down as Erik moves closer on the bed, until Erik’s breath ghosts across Charles’ buttocks and Charles hums in anticipation as Erik murmurs: “Arsch”, and his lips press down onto the round curve of Charles’ ass in a reverent kiss. The hum turns into a groan as Erik’s mouth remains pressed against Charles’ skin and he trails his tongue up to the dimples above Charles’ buttocks and along the line of Charles’ spine- gentle kisses placed against soft skin along with the word: “Rücken”.

By the time Erik’s mouth reaches Charles’ shoulder blades Charles is reduced to a shivery aroused mess as Erik’s tongue licks along the ridge of bone and Erik whispers: “Schulterblatt”, particularly as in that moment Charles feels something brush against the back of his thigh and he realises that Erik is really, definitely naked. Still, it isn’t _quite_ enough confirmation, and as Erik’s mouth moves up to place kisses against Charles’ neck Erik says: “Hals”, and Charles shifts his hips to press upwards and _there_ , there it is- pressed against the warm curve of Charles’ ass is what Charles has been waiting for.

There’s a small surprised noise from Erik in response and his breath stutters against the back of Charles’ neck, but after a moment he relaxes and rolls his hips forward to trail his cock along the line of Charles’ buttocks, and Charles turns his head to the side and opens his eyes to find Erik watching him before he leans down and presses a kiss to Charles’ cheek and murmurs: “Wange”.

“What??” Charles laughs, slipping into a wide grin as he thinks of what the word sounds like. Erik looks a bit confused at first so Charles gently pushes the understanding into Erik’s mind, and then Erik is laughing too- the low sound reverberating through Erik’s chest as he lies down on top of Charles and chuckles into the crook of Charles’ neck. Eventually order is restored, and Erik once more presses a kiss to Charles’ cheekbone before brushing the tip of his nose against Charles’ skin as he explains: “It means ‘cheek’”.

“Oh!” Charles exclaims, amused at his misunderstanding. “I thought it meant… well, you know”.

“You thought it was something more interesting, hmm?” Erik replies with a smile. He dips his head to press a kiss to Charles’ ear, whispers: “Ohr”, and adds: “If you turn over we can continue the lesson…” and Charles’ heart begins to thud even more certainly with anticipation.

Erik withdraws so he is braced on his hands and knees looking down at Charles, and Charles takes a deep breath before he turns over- eyes remaining focused on Erik’s face as he resettles on his back and fights an urge to cast his gaze over Erik’s whole body now it is there and tantalisingly exposed and within touching distance. Clearly though, Erik is not willing to show such restraint, and his eyes trail languorously down Charles’ body, making Charles flush with how Erik looks at him like he both wants to ravage him and keep him safe.

Before Charles can wonder too much what Erik is thinking or feeling Erik begins to move- first pressing a simple kiss to Charles chin (“Kinn”) and another to his collarbone (“Schlüsselbein”) along his ribs (“Rippe”) before his lips trail down Charles’ chest and Charles giggles as Erik’s hair brushes softly against the sensitive skin of his stomach and Erik laughs too and says: “Bauch”. Of course, Charles quickly gets over his amusement when Erik’s mouth moves lower down- tongue grazing across one hip and then the other (“Hüfte”) before Erik shifts backwards and pauses, looking down at Charles’ hard cock where it rests against his stomach, and Charles shivers as Erik’s breath ghosts across his cock and Erik glances up at Charles and murmurs: “Schwanz…”

The first press of Erik’s mouth to Charles’ cock makes Charles tremble- a shaky moan as Erik’s first kiss turns into several more and he mouths up the length of Charles’ cock, until he reaches the top and licks across the sensitive head as he slides his hand around the base and draws Charles’ cock fully into his mouth.

Charles realises very quickly that speaking languages is not the only thing Erik’s mouth is good for, and Charles thinks about all the different dialects Erik has mastered as his tongue swirls around the tip of Charles’ cock each time Erik’s mouth reaches the top, and Charles groans louder and slides his hands into Erik’s hair- trailing through soft tendrils and gripping tight as Erik’s rhythm increases in vigour. One of Erik’s hands comes up to press gently against Charles’ stomach to keep him in place as he squirms, and in the end Charles relinquishes his hold on Erik’s hair and twines his fingers with Erik’s and holds his hand as the pleasure builds and he comes into Erik’s mouth.

Afterwards, Erik lies with Charles- one arm wrapped around his chest with his face pressed into Charles’ shoulder. Charles is shaky, and stunned, and sated, and he holds Erik’s hand on his chest and uses the other to trace careful fingers against Erik’s spine, and though he should just be enjoying the moment he can’t stop his mind from whirling, and it’s only when Erik laughs that Charles realises that he must have mentally pushed his question into Erik’s mind.

“Orgasmus”, Erik chuckles, placing a brief kiss to Charles’ shoulder.

Charles laughs too, and squeezes Erik tighter, and moves onto more questions in his mind because he can feel the sure weight of Erik pressed against him and the hard presence of Erik’s sizeable obscenity against his thigh, and as he dips his head to press a kiss to Erik’s forehead he asks: “How do you say ‘lube’ in German?”

Erik props himself on one arm and looks down at Charles with a winning grin and replies: “Gleitgel”, and Charles smiles too and replies: “I think you might have to write that one down for me…” before he reaches towards his bedside table, and thinks about all the other words he might learn this night.

 


	11. Office Mishap

 

Charles had certainly experienced more than a few awkward moments since he’d started his new job, but this one took the cake. Hell, it took the whole fucking bakery.

It was all his new boss’ fault of course. Charles had never had the easiest time working at Shaw Industries given he hated the owner Sebastian Shaw with the fiery intensity of a thousand suns. But he loved mutants and all of the wonderful powers they possessed, and so Charles had swallowed down his opposition in order to continue with his work- composed of researching mutations and publishing articles on the relevant findings.

But then, one day, Charles was told his department would be expanding. That he would be getting a new boss. That said boss was none other than Erik Lehnsherr- renowned mutant activist and overly-stubborn turtleneck-wearing maddeningly-infuriating fanatic. At least, in Charles’ humble opinion…

Charles had scowled for so long when he’d been told the news that his co-worker Hank had felt compelled to ask Charles if he’d accidentally sat on a microscope. Charles hadn’t, he’d just been so incensed by the idea of working for someone so utterly impenetrable, and he feared that such an involvement might adversely affect his work. As it turned out, working for Erik wasn’t generally as bad as Charles had presumed, but in some ways it was worse.

Erik was quiet. Composed. Precise and meticulous, intelligent and thoughtful. He possessed an air of authority about him without him even having to lift a finger to assert himself, though Charles had heard of the nature of Erik’s mutation and recognised how powerful he undoubtedly was. Most of all he was utterly fucking unreadable. For a telepath such as Charles the notion was maddening, because as much as Charles found himself wanting to know what Erik was thinking, general taste and decency forbade such intrusion, and Charles was moral if nothing else.

_“Moral…”_ Charles reminded himself as he shimmied out of his underwear one night- wandering over to the sofa in his living room and lying back artfully across the cushions. Okay, so it was probably a bad idea. One of Charles’ worst. But, after a terrible day at work chased up with several glasses of whiskey, Charles was feeling silly and tipsy and vulnerable, and in need of a slight pick-me-up. Naturally, trawling Grindr for hot men was the best bet, and that meant dangling pictures of his member out there on the internet and hoping for a bite.

As Charles arranged himself carefully in preparation for the perfect picture his mind wandered back to the incident earlier that day that had caused his annoyance- when Erik had criticised Charles about his substandard work so vehemently that Charles was left feeling distinctly like he’d been spanked, and not in the fun way… During the confrontation Erik hadn’t exactly been rude, or even unfair, but regardless just the strong tone of his voice was enough to rile Charles up- especially as in this particular case Charles hadn’t even done anything wrong, he was actually covering for the screw-up of another co-worker.

It wasn’t the first disagreement they’d had. Given their opposing views on the varying complexities of mutant issues Charles and Erik had clashed more than once, and though Charles knew he was supposed to just keep quiet and agree to whatever his boss said, he found he just couldn’t back down when Erik was being so fucking single-minded and uncompromising. And so, they sniped. And bitched. And argued. Until some of Charles’ co-workers had begun to refer to their antics as those of an old married couple.

Charles did not appreciate the comparison.

_“After all, married couples at least have sex…”_ Charles reasoned, and then immediately felt compelled to push that errant thought back to wherever it had come from. He did not want to have sex with Erik. What a ridiculous notion.

But, ridiculous or not, the fleeting idea ended up being the thing to prompt Charles’ cock into standing to attention, and he was slightly mortified to feel his member harden considerably against his stomach as he thought of Erik- not even the idea of _sex with Erik_ , just the memory of Erik standing in front of him earlier, strong arms folded across his chest as he calmly and methodically gave Charles a severe dressing down (though perhaps not the kind of ‘dressing down’ Charles really wanted…)

It was unfair really for someone so infuriating to be so goddamn gorgeous- to have a defined jaw and broad shoulders and a slim waist and a ridiculously sexy voice. Not that Charles had ever considered any of these things, of course…

For the rest of the evening there were intermittent thoughts of Erik washed down with more whiskey, and eventually Charles had enough dick pics to tempt the guys of Grindr into flirting with him for the night. Charles exchanged messages with a few people- most of which didn’t go anywhere- but eventually Charles hit it off with one particular gentleman and they swapped numbers and began a brief exchange of pictures. At least, that’s what Charles _thought_ happened…

The next morning Charles awoke still naked on his sofa, with his cock in his hand and a pounding in his head. Dimly from across his apartment he could hear the sound of his alarm going off in his bedroom, and as he tumbled ungracefully off the sofa and crawled over towards it he glanced at the clock on the nearby wall, and realised with some horror that he was very, very late for work.

Half an hour later Charles was practically fucking sprinting into Shaw Industries’ high-rise office building, mentally cursing himself for his night of slutty excess. It was not a good day to be late for work. There was a very important audit coming up, and Charles knew he would be forced to stay at his desk until all of his research was fully documented, regardless of how long that would take.

That day Charles remained at work long after everyone else had gone home- due in part to the fact that he’d missed about an hour that morning, along with the fact that he could barely concentrate thanks to the pounding in his head. At around 6pm Charles realised that he’d consumed nothing but copious amounts of coffee for the whole day, and so he decided to take a short break to eat something and to relax a little. He retrieved some food from the nearby kitchen and was sat back at his desk munching happily on his snacks when he was interrupted by someone reaching out to him.

It wasn’t something that happened all that often. Though most of Charles’ co-workers knew he was a telepath none of them chose to communicate with him psychically, except for one person…

For some reason, Erik had always favoured summoning Charles to his office by way of a mental request rather than picking up a phone. Charles didn’t mind- in fact, he often found having Erik’s rather sultry voice in his head to be undeniably thrilling- but when most subsequent meetings ended up descending into one slanging match or another Charles found, on this particular occasion, that the idea was not welcome.

Charles scowled, retrieving his phone from his pocket and unlocking it for the first time that day as he prepared to commence an epic rant to his sister Raven about how much his job sucked and how he hated his boss and how he was going to go upstairs and tell Erik to go fist himself right now, when suddenly he realised something.

As soon as Charles unlocked his phone there in front of him was his message log from yesterday- a picture of his cock sent late last night, but the recipient wasn’t the guy from Grindr.

It was Erik.

Charles felt his stomach drop as he saw the evidence of his mistake- realising that, sometime after maybe his fifth glass of whiskey, he must have blurred the lines between thinking about Erik and messaging his new Grindr friend, and his cock shot had gone awry. It wasn’t a bad picture (thank heavens for reasonably-sized mercies) but it certainly wasn’t the kind of message Charles wanted to send to his boss. Not the same boss who appeared calm and composed on the surface but had a tendency to make all the metal in the room shake when he was angry.

It was perhaps a minute before Charles realised he was still standing there, gaping at the phone in his hands, and then he felt it again- Erik’s voice reaching for him, saying: _“Charles. My office. Now”._

Charles sucked in an unsteady breath, running his fingers through his hair as he stared at the ceiling and tried to prepare himself for what was likely to be the worse bollocking of his life. He was going to be fired for sure- he just knew it- so perhaps the only thing to do now was to go out with some semblance of dignity…

When Charles reached the door of Erik’s office he knocked once with hands that trembled just a little, and when there was a curt “Come in” from inside he stepped into the room and wandered over to where Erik was stood with his back to Charles. There was a chair just in front of where Erik was standing so Charles dropped down into it, folding his arms across his chest and preparing himself for the fight that was surely to follow.

“I suppose you know why I called you in here?” Erik asked, continuing to face away from Charles as he fiddled with something on his desk.

Charles huffed, deciding in that moment to just tackle the situation head on and face whatever punishment might be coming to him.

“Yes… It’s because I accidentally sent you a dick pic”.

Erik stood upright at that, and turned, and looked at Charles quizzically, and as Charles’ gaze panned down and he took in the bottle of wine in Erik’s hands and the glasses on the table Charles _still_ didn’t quite put things together, not until Erik said: “Accidentally?”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh _fuck_.

Charles was rarely at a loss for words but in that moment speech failed him, because Erik was looking at Charles with more expression on his face than Charles had ever seen, but it wasn’t anger or annoyance that Charles could read in those stormy grey-green-blue eyes of his, it was more like disappointment.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Charles stared at Erik, heart racing as he took in the evident tension in every fine line of Erik’s body- in the clench of his jaw, in the crease of his brow, in the clutch of his hands on the wine bottle. Erik was completely immobile at first, but then he dropped his gaze and turned away, and as he placed the bottle back on his desk he quietly mumbled: “I see…”

“You see?” Charles replied. “Well, could you help me out a little because I don’t…” he added, leaning forward in his seat in an attempt to see Erik’s face better so he could clarify his suspicions.

“I thought…” Erik started, but the end of the sentence was lost no matter how hard Charles looked for it, and Erik didn’t turn back around.

It had never been more tempting for Charles to use his telepathy to get closer to Erik- in truth it had always been an abject desire simmering just under the surface of Charles’ thoughts- and when Erik still remained mute and unresponsive and hunched over like he was trying to hide, Charles decided he would just do it.

Charles composed himself as he watched Erik’s shoulders rise and fall with measured breath, and then he reached his fingers to his temple in a gesture that always helped him concentrate as he carefully, so carefully brushed against Erik’s mind.

It was like getting a taste of something sweet and wonderful- something that lingered on the tongue and made Charles ache for more even though he couldn’t have it. Erik’s mind was strong and disciplined, but there was softness there. Vulnerability. Kindness and compassion. It made Charles’ heart ache to feel it- with sentiment, and with longing.

Charles didn’t remain in Erik’s consciousness for long- just time enough for him to pick up on the thrum of thought running through Erik’s mind; a stream of consciousness that made Charles’ heart beat faster with each word overheard.

_“…such a Dummkopf… what was I thinking… of course that picture wasn’t meant for me… of course it was an accident… Mein Gott he’s so good and so gorgeous… there’s no way he would be interested in me…”_

Slowly, Charles extracted himself from Erik’s mind. And paused. And smiled. And experienced a moment of pure, giddy joy that seemed to come from nowhere- joy that was expressed as a small, involuntary chuckle which seemed loud in the quiet room.

Erik finally turned around at that, but he no longer looked just disappointed- he looked annoyed, and hurt…

“You don’t have to laugh at me”, Erik muttered. “I know I jumped to conclusions but there’s no need to be such an _Arschloch_ about it”.

Charles stopped laughing, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face- not because he was amused at Erik’s expense, but because Erik looked so defenceless and so abashed, and quite frankly it was adorable.

Without hesitation Charles rose from his seat- crossing the room towards Erik in three decisive steps until he was stood very firmly in Erik’s personal space, gazing up at him in pure wonder. In turn Erik looked rather less certain. He stared down at Charles with confusion but definite interest on his face- interest that increased further as Charles shifted just a little bit closer and fixed Erik with his flirtiest gaze.

“So… What did you think?” Charles asked.

“What?” Erik blinked.

“What did you think?” Charles repeated, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

“I… You mean about the dick pic…? Does it matter? You said it wasn’t for me…”

“I know… it wasn’t… but now I kind of wish it had been”.

Erik paused, looking at Charles cautiously- and hopefully- for a moment.

“You– really?” he replied.

Charles smiled. “Erik, why didn’t you tell me you were interested in me before?”

“Well… Because we fight all the time. And because I’m your boss”.

“We do… You are… But suddenly I’m thinking that shouldn’t be a problem unless we want it to be. And besides…” Charles added, stepping closer and placing his hands carefully on Erik’s waist. “You’ve seen me naked now, so it’s practically like we’re dating already…”

At the first touch of Charles’ hands it was like Erik stopped breathing. Charles could practically _feel_ the tension coming off of Erik’s body- especially given the way his stomach muscles tensed under Charles’ palms and his eyes grew wide as he stared down at Charles. But Charles didn’t need his telepathy to know that Erik appreciated the closeness, and it was only a moment before some of the tension abated and Erik began to smile.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right…” Erik replied. “It _is_ like we’re already dating”. He brought his face closer to Charles’, so that their mouths were just inches away from touching and added: “Does this mean I get more pictures?”

Charles smiled, sliding his fingers to firmly grasp the front of Erik’s trousers and pulling him closer. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours”, he murmured.

“Deal”, Erik whispered, before closing the distance and stealing a kiss.

 


	12. Trussed up like a Turkey

 

 

To call it a farce would be a bit of an understatement.

All Charles wanted was a nice Thanksgiving- the first he’d hosted himself since he moved to America when he was a child. There was supposed to be roast turkey and yams and three different kinds of pie. Instead, there was burnt potatoes, liquid soap in the cranberry sauce, and a powerful mutant leader tied up in Charles’ bathtub.

How had it come to this?

Naturally, Charles blamed Raven. It had been his sister’s idea for Charles to host Thanksgiving, in spite of the fact that he couldn’t cook to save his life, and she’d been so infectious in her enthusiasm that Charles just couldn’t help going along with her ideas. Of course, Charles could never have predicted that, on the morning when the dinner was due to take place, he would be walking back from the university he taught at only to come across the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants- Magneto- dressed up in his customary extravagant garb, taunting the police officers that surrounded him by beating them with their own guns. Charles wasn’t one for violence, so stopping the fuchsia fiend was somewhat of a given. Kidnapping him, though? Well, that was another matter entirely…

 

“You can’t keep me here!” Magneto protested, looking beyond ridiculous as he glared up at Charles from the bathtub, arms bound by thick black cord, cape laid out beneath him making the entire bath look like it was full of magenta water. “This is… this is unconstitutional!”

Charles pulled a face. “I think you lost your right at ‘constitutional’ when you used your powers of iron manipulation on the New York Police Department to send all of their blood distinctly southwards… I’d heard you were somewhat of an unusual character, but I haven’t heard of many villains who disable their foes by way of mass erections”.

Magneto sniffed disapprovingly. “They always come at me with guns… It gets so boring disabling them so easily- sometimes I like to have a little more fun”.

“Mm, I bet you do…” Charles replied, shaking his head. “Well, you’ve had enough fun for now- I have a very important dinner to host, so you need to stay in here and remain quiet until I’m done. I’ve disabled your powers with my telepathy, so don’t try anything fancy. In fact, don’t try anything at all. If I hear so much as the slightest peep out of you I will use my powers in an entirely more alarming way, and it won’t be to give you an erection- I can assure you of that”.

“Don’t be so sure…”

Charles paused, looking down at the bathtub, eyebrows raising at the hint of a smile just forming at the corner of Magneto’s mouth. Wait, what?? What was going on here? Magneto wasn’t actually _flirting_ with his captor, was he?

“Oh, I, um…” Charles trailed off, realising in an instant how flustered he was becoming as he felt a certain blush begin to colour his cheeks. “Just… behave, okay Magneto?” he finished, rather unconvincingly.

“Erik…” came the response, delivered with a smirk from behind lowered eyelashes. “Please, call me Erik”.

“Erik…” Charles said softly, enjoying the taste of the word. “Alright then, Erik…”

 

Charles was still thinking about ‘Erik’ later that afternoon, when he was sat at a large table surrounded by guests, all of which were eagerly chowing down on mouthfuls of food. Despite some earlier wobbles in the kitchen Charles had managed to put on a fairly impressive spread, and everyone seemed happy with Charles’ efforts. Well, almost everyone…

“What is it, Erik?” Charles asked sometime later when he’d stolen a moment away from his invited guests to deal with his rather less invited guest- one who would just not fucking stop prodding at Charles’ mind for attention, exhibiting remarkable control for someone who claimed they’d never met a telepath before.

“I’m hungry…” Erik grumbled, shifting slightly uncomfortably in the bathtub. “All that food you’ve made smells so wonderful, can I not just have a bit?”

Charles’ brows drew together in a frown. “You’re my prisoner, Erik… Why would I feed you?”

“Ahh, human rights?”

“You’re not a human, you’re a mutant- as you gleefully pointed out when you were fighting with those policemen earlier”.

“True… Well, mutant rights, then. Come on, Charles- you don’t want me to starve, do you?”

“Not if you’re going to keep moaning about it…” Charles muttered, trying to ignore the smug look of victory on Erik’s face as he watched Charles turn away and leave the room, returning later with a hastily prepared plate of food.

“You’re going to have to help me eat that, you know?” Erik said, exacerbating the ridiculousness of the situation as Charles rolled his eyes and positioned himself on the edge of the bathtub, picking up a fork and carefully offering it to Erik. Erik ate the forkful of mashed potato eagerly, his tongue darting out to chase up the remnants smeared on his lips, and Charles suddenly found himself fighting to control a surge of arousal at the sight.

“You’re blushing, professor…” Erik murmured.

“Am not…” Charles muttered in response, knowing he was lying, knowing the rush of blood to his groin was likely nothing to do with Erik’s powers, and everything to do with Erik’s steely eyes and defined jaw and broad shoulders and impossibly slim waist. “It’s just, um… hot in here”, Charles finished lamely.

Erik grinned, the look of a predator that had just caught its kill. “I think that’s just you, Liebling”.

Well, _fuck_.

 

Later, Charles was sitting once more in his dining room, listening to excited chatter and laughter from around the table, and trying to ignore the six-foot distraction he knew was currently sprawled in his bathtub- the distraction that had said with some glee: “I’ll see you for dessert!”

Dessert was a strawberry cream pie, and Charles could already imagine how sinful Erik would look with strawberry sauce on his lips. It’s for that reason that Charles decided to give Erik something else entirely…

“A granola bar?” Erik huffed, looking at the offering in Charles’ hand in disgust. “Really?”

“You’re a prisoner, remember Erik? Prisoners get basic rations”.

“Yeah, basic rations usually means food, not compressed sawdust…”

Charles sighed. “Erik, do you want this or not?”

“I suppose…” Erik sulked.

The granola bar ended up not being as good an idea as Charles had hoped… Erik devoured it eagerly, and Charles tried not to tremble every time Erik’s tempting lips closed around the length of the bar, particularly when he was sure there were moments when Erik would just hold it in his mouth, nibbling slowly on the end…

“You’re ridiculous”, Charles said eventually, reaching to wipe a crumb from the corner of Erik’s mouth and immediately jumping when Erik’s tongue darted out to lick the pad of Charles’ thumb.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s running around kidnapping people…”

“I don’t kidnap people all the time!” Charles protested, popping the last of the granola bar in Erik’s mouth. “This is a special, one-off, unprecedented event”.

“Oh, so you’re saying that normally you don’t take hostages, but I was just so unbelievably irresistible that you couldn’t stop yourself from tying me up and taking me home”.

Charles scowled. “I’m definitely not saying that…”

“It’s okay, Charles”, Erik grinned. “Believe me, this is unusual for me too. Normally when people try to stop me I disable them with a mere flick of my fingers, but you just looked so cute I found that I didn’t want to fight back”.

“So, what? You’re now claiming that you _allowed_ yourself to be kidnapped?”

“Over a decade of leading the Brotherhood and this is my first capture. What do you think, Charles?”

“I think you’re going to have to get out of my bathtub soon…” Charles sighed, standing up and moving towards the door. “Because I’m going to need to have a shower and go to bed before long…”

Erik’s smirk grew wider. “Well, don’t let me stop you…”

 

This was stupid. Charles knew it was stupid enough kidnapping the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants in the first place, but actually starting to like the man? Flirting with him? Completely fucking ridiculous.

The only problem was, as Charles stood at his doorway saying goodbye to guest after guest, for once he found that the logical part of his brain didn’t seem to be working. Erik was a villain, a criminal, an ostentatiously-dressed egomaniac. He just also happened to be pretty much the most attractive person Charles had ever met. And Charles wanted him.

But in spite, of that, Charles wasn’t going to have him. This had gone on for too long already, and there was only one thing to do now- Charles would have to let Erik go.

Charles burst into the bathroom, fixing Erik with a determined look that faded a little in the wake of the sight of Erik sitting there, legs spread apart, arms folded behind his head (as best as possible considering his wrists were still bound), an unbelievably compelling grin on his face.

“I’m letting you go…” Charles said, eyes trailing down Erik’s body and honing in on the impressive-looking bulge in his trousers. “…In the morning”.

“Normally I’m not one for celebrating this stupid American holiday, but suddenly I find myself feeling incredibly thankful…” Erik smirked.

“Well, you can show me how thankful you are just as soon as I untie you…” Charles replied, crossing the room towards the bathtub, and sitting down on the side of it.

“Are you sure you want to do that? I might attempt to escape. Maybe you should just tie me up somewhere more suitable, like the bedroom…”

Charles paused, looking down at Erik and feeling a pulse of desire run through his body like electricity.

“Happy fucking Thanksgiving, indeed…” Charles replied, before reaching for Erik.

 

The next morning Charles awoke alone- a slightly troubling realisation, but understandably preferable to waking up to find you’ve been dismembered by an egomaniac mutant. Charles pulled on some clothing and shuffled sleepily downstairs, getting as far as the bathroom door before he paused briefly at the sight of light coming from inside.

Pushing open the door, Charles looked inside to find Erik lying in the bathtub, a cup of tea clutched in his hands as he smiled up at Charles.

“Erik… What the fuck are you doing?” Charles asked in confusion.

“Well, I enjoyed our little bathtub rendezvous last night so much I thought I might like to repeat the experience, only this time you can join me in here”.

Charles smiled. “Do you not remember how I said I wanted to have a shower sometime soon? I’m not sure I can do that with you lying fully clothed in the bath…”

“Ah, but of course…” Erik replied, placing the cup of tea on the bathroom floor and reaching down to swiftly peel off the t-shirt that Charles recognised as his own, and after a moment removing his underwear too.

“Much better”, Charles replied once Erik was fully undressed, crossing the room towards Erik’s open arms. Of course, Erik became rather less welcoming when Charles quickly turned on the shower, dousing him with cold water. But within seconds he had wrestled Charles into the bathtub with himself, using Charles’ body heat to warm himself up.

“I’m so thankful that you kidnapped me…” Erik murmured, lips brushing against Charles’ own.

Charles beamed. “Me too, darling”, he replied, before leaning in for another kiss.

 


	13. The Gift

 

 

Erik’s mother always told him scars were like memory.

He was supposed to look at the one above his lip and remember the time his father first taught him to ride a bike and the fun they had that day, even if it ended up with Erik crashing the bike and cutting his face. It’s a nice theory, and it comforted Erik then. There’s just one problem.

Since Shaw, Erik has too many scars now.

Unlike the small scar above Erik’s lip, the memories that these scars come with are not sweet and nostalgic. They are painful, agonising, torturous. They are broken bones and searing brands and beatings so fierce Erik thought he would die. They are the days and nights when Erik would curl up and cry for his mother, and wish he had died too.

Even after Erik is free of Shaw the memories remain. They are there every time Erik takes off his clothes and looks down at the man Shaw has forced him to become, at battered and bruised flesh that betrays years of suffering, at puncture wounds long since healed, even if such healing is only skin deep. The scars tell Erik that he is a survivor, that he is stronger now for living through the torment that Shaw put him through, but they do not comfort him. They are the secret Erik covers, the formulation of a lie constructed by items of fine clothing- clothing that Erik does not remove in front of another person, not until Charles.

Although Erik has been intimate with other people before such intimacy has always been conducted under the shroud of darkness, and Erik has always taken care to ensure that no one can see the horrors betrayed by silvery scar tissue. With Charles, everything changes.

Erik has always known that, even if someone were to catch the glimpse of a bullet wound or the jagged path travelled by a knife, the most they could do is speculate. But Charles doesn’t speculate, he doesn’t guess, he _knows_. Charles’ telepathy means that he is already acutely aware of every wrong and debase thing that has happened to Erik, and seeing the scars will only solidify the reality of Charles’ forcibly acquired memories. With such knowledge there really is no reason for Erik to hide, for him to keep his clothes on when they are intimate, for him to push Charles facedown into the mattress when they fuck, but he does it anyway. It’s like Erik is trying to protect himself, like he thinks he can convince himself that Charles doesn’t really know all of what happened with Shaw, that he didn’t really mean it when he said he knew ‘everything’. But Erik knows he is only lying to himself, and it cannot go on forever.

Charles never pushes though, he never asks for more. Though he may trail slow, lustful kisses down Erik’s neck and try to nuzzle his face towards covered flesh as he pulls gently at Erik’s shirt, he stops every time Erik nudges him away. It’s both a kindness and a weakness, because with Charles never asking for more things will never change, and increasingly as time goes on Erik is realising that he wants that, that wants more from Charles. And so, one night he stands before Charles in some nameless hotel room, and tries to work up the courage to give him everything.

On the edge of the bed Charles sits there, completely naked and unashamed, soft and warm and freckled all over, looking up at Erik and waiting, as he always does. Erik has seen every part of Charles’ body by now, has mapped out every centimetre of skin with his tongue, has caressed and explored Charles, held him, kissed him, fucked him, but still Charles has seen so little in return. And as he looks up at Erik it’s clear he’s waiting for instruction, to be given his usual limited access to Erik’s cock and be allowed to service him, to be told to turn around and lie facedown upon the mattress, to be plunged into darkness as Erik uses his powers to turn off the lights, but it doesn’t happen.

This hotel room has a dimmer switch, and as Erik stares down at Charles, as he runs one hand slowly through Charles’ hair, he uses his powers to turn the metal knob of the light switch, gradually causing twilight but not complete darkness. Charles sucks in an unsteady breath, like he can sense something important is coming, something unprecedented, and simply stares up at Erik, and waits. There is a line about to be crossed here, but maybe that already happened weeks ago, maybe that happened back when Erik first allowed Charles to kiss him- a gesture so chaste and so sweet and something Erik had never felt like he needed before, not until Charles. But Charles’ kisses are slow and drugging, they feel like artistry- a gentle brushstroke upon Erik’s lips, painting him into life, and increasingly Erik realises how much he needs that, how much he needs every careful caress that Charles can give. And so, Erik removes his clothes.

He starts with his leather jacket, discarding it briskly and throwing it over the back of a nearby chair. It’s nothing new- Erik has at least taken his jacket off in front of Charles before now- but regardless Erik’s heart is pounding. He places the palm of one hand over it for a moment, like he is trying to shield the frantic beating within his chest, like the wings of a trapped bird fluttering, aching to be free. But the tremor cannot be stilled, and Erik can only exhale a long sigh as he drops his gaze from Charles’ kind face to regard the floor, and keeps it there all throughout what happens next.

As Erik reaches down and grasps hold of the bottom of his jumper he stares down at the wooden floorboards beneath Charles’ feet, trying to dissociate from the situation as he swiftly yanks both his jumper and his undershirt over his head in one quick motion, exposing for the first time the horrifying reality of years of torture. Even without looking Erik can feel Charles’ eyes upon the flesh, trailing over scars and burn marks and uneven patches of skin where it has been pierced by one sharp instrument or another. Erik can feel himself shaking; a cold stab of dread puncturing his chest and making his breath stutter uncertainly, but he forges on. If anything, Erik is a man of conviction, and he will see this through to completion- whatever that may mean.

There are no words from either of them when Erik uses his powers to assist as he unclasps his belt buckle and pops open the button and zipper of his trousers. Erik’s hands are so numb he can barely feel the material against his fingers as he pulls his trousers and underwear down, revealing yet more scars that form a sickening pattern down both of Erik’s thighs. It’s doubtful Erik has felt as pathetic as this in a long time- scarred and wounded, not even hard given how any desire he was experiencing when this all started has been stunted by pure fear. Erik really wouldn’t blame Charles for leaving there and then. It’s doubtful that the weeks of anticipation have been worth the wait, that this is what Charles was hoping to see hidden beneath Erik’s clothing, and even though Erik knows that Charles’ abandonment at this moment would likely destroy him, Erik also knows that he would permit him to go.

But Charles doesn’t. He stays so still for such a long time that Erik yearns so badly to look up, to search for answers in Charles’ eyes even though he fears what he will find. Increasingly Erik feels sick, like he has given away a part of himself he can never hope to get back, and he both wants to run and fears moving an inch. But just when Erik feels like his heart may be about to give out with the tension, Charles moves.

Erik’s eyes remain focused on the ground as Charles stands up, slowly, like he’s approaching a wounded animal that he doesn’t want to startle. Charles turns away and Erik feels himself begin to break, but it is only for a moment that Charles steps over towards the bed before he is turning back around and approaching Erik once more, a large blanket clutched in his hands. Erik doesn’t realise Charles is holding it until the moment Charles steps closer and drapes the blanket around Erik’s shoulders, at the same time stepping into Erik’s body so that they are pressed flush together, the warmth and comfort of Charles’ presence making Erik let out of the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Darling, it’s okay…” Charles whispers, starting to pull the blanket across Erik’s chest to cover him up, but without thinking Erik’s hands reach up to seize Charles’ wrists, stopping his movement.

Finally Erik looks up to meet Charles’ eyes, and in them he sees everything he didn’t know he needed. There is compassion, empathy, sadness, anger, peace, serenity, and love. There is an acceptance Erik didn’t ask for and one that he didn’t hope to receive, but one that Charles has given anyway. And as Erik seizes hold of the blanket and uses it to envelope Charles, pulling him closer still, Charles slides his arms around Erik’s waist and presses his face into Erik’s neck, placing kisses there along with a softly murmured: “Thank you…”

It’s clear then what this is to Charles. This isn’t a punishment like Erik feared- some gory spectacle that Charles expected and dreaded in equal measure. It’s a gift. Erik giving himself to Charles like this is a gift. And Erik knows, really knows, that Charles’ acceptance of him is very much a gift too, and that it was worth the sacrifice.

Erik holds Charles, the blanket wrapped tight around the both of them keeping them safe in their own secret space, and this time when Charles tilts his head up to seek a kiss Erik reciprocates easily, no longer feeling like something is being taken from him, but that it is his to give.

 


End file.
